Scion to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire
by Sapphire Diadem
Summary: Anthonie, son to the Marquis of Beaudelaire, is able to attend Hogwarts through an ancient bylaw of the school. Simultaneously, through his family's then eventually his own eyes, he will watch the political affairs of the wizarding world. He and his friends will have to deal with evil plots and play proxies, but their families won't let them down in times of need. Gen ShortHiatus
1. Birth

**A.N.: Hello dear readers, and welcome to my first story. First of all, this story is OC centric, so anyone who doesn't like those kinds of stories: you have been warned. Second of all, this story will 'experiment' with how a new character can and will diverge the original plot, but since most of the big events of PS and COS are independent of my OC, I will have to compensate by setting things for later years that happen abroad and are new. Jumping off this, this story will focus on international or foreign (as in not in the UK) politics and events in the wizarding world, mostly European, as well as history, again mostly European. Finally, in concerns to the Lordship trope, I actually did research on how the British Parliament functions and read a lot on the subject for fun, so you won't see medieval op nobility. Sorry for long Author's Note, just wanted to set some things straight.**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or anything that has to do with it. It is the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling (and Warner Bros, I guess?).**

_12 May 1980, Palais des Beaussiers, Southern France_

In the West Wing of the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire, in the early hours of the morning, Lady Alexandrina de Bousquet née Alhbrecht was giving birth to her second child.

Docteur Clairmont was assisting Lady Alexandrina while her husband, Albert de Bousquet, heir apparent to the House of Beaudelaire, was holding her hand and morally supporting her.

"_Poussez_," said the doctor.

Lady Alexandrina did as told, groaning loudly in pain between gasps of breath.

"_Je crois en toi, mon amour_," said M. Bousquet. "_Pousses_."

And so, with the directions of Docteur Clairmont and the support of her husband, Lady Alexandrina gave birth to her second child. Another boy.

It was decided he would be named Anthonie, Anthonie de Bousquet from House Beaudelaire. And in the morning, Anthonie was put with his older brother in the nursery under the care of their nanny, where every member of the family went to see him as the day passed.

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The months passed, and finally, the time of Anthonie's christening came. Apart from his family at home, his great-great-uncle on his father's side, his mother's sister, his grandparents, and great-grandparents on his mother's side would also be present.

Wizarding christenings, apart from being extremely rare in the way that few witches or wizards were still Christian, were different from their Muggle counterparts. Because, much like in fairy tales, apart from the religious blessing there were also blessings from actual faes.

No, not those pesky and troublesome pixies and faeries, but actual humanoid faes. This species had a very special genetic quirk that made females pink-skinned and the males blue-skinned.

The christening was done in the palace's chapel and attending it were three faes: one male, and two females. The male had pale blue skin, silvery eyes and long pointy ears. He wore a boxy hat over his bald head and had a long, well-trimmed white beard with a faint bit of blue in it. He wore sapphire-blue robes with arcane patterns sewn in them and held a staff. His translucent and butterfly-like wings getting through his robes as if they were immaterial. He went first to give his blessing.

"_Dear child,_" the fae said. "_I give you the gift of wisdom and of sharpness of the mind. May your intellect put you above your peers._"

Blue sparks flew from the head of the fae's staff and swirled around the head of the infant for a while and then vanished.

The second fae, a stern-looking woman with ruby red eyes, pinkish-red hair held in a tight bun on top of her head with a jewelled hairpin and dressed in a pink dress with a mandarin collar under a deep magenta cloak with slits to let her arms through. She held a fuchsia wand with a starry and vine design engraved in it and a small crystal sphere the size of a small marble on its tip. If the first fae had the aura of a wise and old professor, this one had the aura of a stern and knowledgeable governess.

"_Dear child,_" she said. "_I give you the gift of elegance and poise. May your manners and the way you hold yourself represent well your noble status._"

With a flick of her wand, the orb at the tip of her wand lit with white light and the light went on the baby in the crib. After a moment, just like the sparks that preceded it, it vanished.

The third and last of the faes was a young-looking, energetic woman with deep flowing, curly pink hair held by a crown flower made of daisies and golden eyes. She was dressed in a loose bright yellow dress with flowing sleeves and short enough to show her floating bare feet. Unlike the other two, she was flying. This fae didn't have a staff or a wand, but a silvery music box.

She went to the baby in his crib and gave him her blessing.

"_Sweet child,_" she said with an eager tone. "I _give you the gift of creativity and of interest in art under all its forms. May your imagination become one of your greatest tools._"

She opened her music box and from it played a classical tune, she let the infant hear it and returned the smile he gave her before she closed the box, and with this stopped the tune.

At the end of the christening, Anthonie's full name was now Anthonie Auguste Franz Joseph de Bousquet.

Two years later, on the second of May, a girl was born into the family and she was named Catherine de Bousquet.

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**A.N.: The christening is based on Sleeping Beauty, so it isn't something really op or like a prophecy, just some good wishes. Please review, I always welcome constructive criticism.**


	2. A Little Family History

**A.N.: For those wondering, Hogwarts proper will start at chapter seven or so, I believe. The chapters before that will be setting Anthonie as a character and tell a bit about his life at home.**

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**Disclaimer: Everything is owned by JK Rowling, even your own life. Except for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire and the Noble House of Grimmen. Good reading**

Life for the children of the House of Beaudelaire was one of privilege and discipline. Of course, the first three years were more eating, sleeping, crying, playing, and everything else in between for a toddler. Nanny Isabelle took care of Anthonie for the better part of his formative years until he reached his fourth birthday. The boy said his first word 'Mama' at the age of twenty-six months during teatime when he saw his parents. The heir apparent to the House of Beaudelaire, Albert de Bousquet, and his wife, Lady Alexandrina de Bousquet, were busy people, and their responsibilities made so they had very few moments to spare to see their children.

Lord Beaudelaire's health had recently made a drop. One of his old curse wounds dating from his duelling days was acting up again, and he seemed to have contracted a mild case of the Salamander's Cold. Here and there, Lord Beaudelaire would have a coughing fit and ashes – even fire, in some rare cases – would get out of his nose. Docteur Clairmont, the family's physician who worked at the village's hospital, had been at Lord Beaudelaire's bedside for an entire week before they had to call a Healer from Verséans' General Hospital for Magical Diseases and Wizarding Accidents so as to let the undercover Healer go back to the village's hospital and take care of the Muggles living there as well as the surrounding magical families. Lord Beaudelaire's old wound acting up had apparently been a side effect of the Salamander's Cold, which was completely cured out in the middle of the third week. The old Marquis would need a cane to help with his limp, but other than that he was completely fine.

During the time his father had been ill, Albert had to take care of his duties. Managing the estate, going to the monthly Chiefconseil meeting, that sort of thing. Even after Lord Beaudelaire was out of bed, the process of transition of power from the father to the son began, and Albert's time dedicated to his children suffered from it. He could only see his two youngest during teatime, and his oldest, who was out of the nursery, didn't have much more time with his papa.

Lady Alexandrina's schedule hadn't been affected by Lord Beaudelaire's illness, and so she still saw her children at least three times a day. The first time would be in the children's sitting room during their elevenses, the second time during teatime in the afternoon, and finally, she would kiss them goodnight after their nanny tucked them in bed. The days of the German noblewoman were actually quite charged, contrary to the popular belief that rich people had tons and tons of leisure time. Lady Alexandrina helped Lady Beaudelaire, her mother-in-law, to manage the domestic aid in the house and the currently empty Dowager house in the outskirts of the village. She also organized some charities and events in the village, Paris, Bordeaux, and Verséans. In addition to all these tasks, she also kept a regular correspondence with her friends, her family, Ladies of the kingdom, and some of their tenants' wives.

Anthonie deeply loved his parents. His father, always kind and smiling at him, used to read them fairy tales on rare occasions before he had to take over the duties of his father. Anthonie's mother, for her part, became a role for the boy and his sister as well as their _de facto_ favourite parent since she was the one they saw the most. Lady Beaudelaire, although Anthonie only saw her at teatime, was an intelligent and formidable woman who always seemed to have a witty remark ready to be delivered, which never failed to make the young boy laugh.

Lord Beaudelaire was a very reserved man. Being a favourite of the Crown at court, his thoughts on political matters were highly desired, as much as to follow them than to plan against them. This, in the long term, made the Marquis to mostly if only keep his wisdom to the ears of his son, wife and monarch alone.

On the other side of the family tree, the Count and Countess of Grimmen, Anthonie's great-grandparents, were very much involved in his and his sibling's education. Just like they had been with their granddaughters and son. Lord Grimmen, otherwise known as Grandfather Friedrich by the children, was some sort of well-rounded genius who did all kinds of experiments and researches when not playing the game of politics in the International Confederation of Wizards as Germany's representant. Although harsh at moments, Lord Grimmen knew when to lower his voice and always made sure that his great-grandchildren were well informed and that they would be in advance of their peers when the time came to fly from the nest.

His wife, Lady Letizia Maria Bonfiglio, was a very kind and joyful witch. She acted a bit like the stereotypical grandmother, treating her grandchildren, but she was also the Yin to her husband's Yang. When Grandfather Friedrich would talk about how the current establishment was tilted so that wizarding culture slowly disappeared by integrating Muggle culture, Grandmother Letizia would intervene and tell them how it wasn't the fault of the Muggle-borns, who were as much victims of the system as they were, but the fault of the system of integration of Muggle-borns to their world which assured they would know almost nothing of their world and culture by the time they would have to go to school.

Aunt Athena, mother's younger sister, was the direct family member the children saw the less of. This was due to her being all away back in Greece where she was completing her Doctor of Arithmancy at the Academy of the Mystic Arts and Occult Mysteries of Òlympos to go along her Doctor of Charms. Aunt Athena had inherited her grandfather's passion for the mysteries of magic, and just like him, she wanted to solve and invent the most she could in her lifetime. Anthonie's mother was a role model for him in his function as an aristocrat and scion of a Noble House, but his aunt was his role model in what he wanted to achieve.

Grandfather Wilhelm and Grandmother Marysa seemed almost boring in comparison to Anthonie's more colourful relatives, but that didn't mean he loved them less. Far from that, they were the ones that made him see werewolves as humans who were afflicted by a terrible curse that only affected them one night per month. The couple was also far from being less mentally adept than the rest of the family. Grandfather Wilhelm had been the one to find a way for his childhood friend, Ernst Wolh, from transforming into a werewolf during the full moon. In hindsight, it was obvious, of course. The thing with lycanthropy was that the person afflicted by it transformed when the full moon was in the sky, but what if the werewolf simply wasn't… there when the night of the full moon came. What if they were, say, on the other side of the planet? Teleportation was a common thing in the wizarding world for centuries, so it was a wonder no one thought of that to 'cure' lycanthropy. For her part, Grandmother Marysa may not have done a revolutionary, though not globally known nor accepted, discovery, but she had a Mastery in Herbology under her belt.

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The first bout of accidental magic is always a moment of joy in magical households, even more so if the child is especially young. In general, children start to do some at around the age of six. The earliest ones start at three and the latest ones who aren't late bloomers start at around eight or nine years old. The latter happening mostly to overprotected children.

It was because they knew this, that Lady and Lord Beaudelaire were especially proud of their middle child to have his first bout of accidental magic at the age of four years, two months and one day old.

It happened while Johann and Anthonie were playing hide and seek in the basements. Johann was the seeker and Anthonie was hiding. Anthonie had the idea of going into a closet. This particular closet had coats and cloaks in it. Not that much since the human staff wasn't as numerous as in the days of old, but just enough to hide his frail and small form.

While Anthonie was shuffling the coats in front of him, he felt something in one of the pockets. Curious as he was, he had to see what it was. It turned out to be glasses, like that great grandfather Friedrich and grandfather Wilhelm wore.

He decided to put them on to see the difference between his normal vision and with the glasses on. Everything looked disproportionately bigger, but it didn't hurt his head like when he tried his grandfather's ones. He was going to put the glasses back where he had picked them, but in that instance, he saw a monstrosity that made him freeze.

It had eight black eyes, eight paws, it was covered in fur and had terrifying mandibles. He screamed like he never screamed and could be heard from the other side of the palace. He went to hit it, but it wasn't his fist that touched it, but a flame. The monster was transformed into ashes in a blink of an eye and the coat it was on also caught fire. He ran out of the closet, letting the door open, and ran to his mama and papa.

The house-elves heard the scream and popped to where it came from. They put out the fire and repaired what had been burned inside.

Yes, the Lady and Lord Beaudelaire were proud of their son, a bit upset that he made their domestic coats catch on fire, but mainly proud. Only their daughter had yet to make accidental magic, but she was only two. She still had time.

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Since the age of three, Anthonie had been taught how to read and then write in French and German. He was better in French since his father and grandparents spoke French with him as well as nanny Isabelle and the staff, but his mother spoke German with him and his siblings and she spoke a language that Anthonie would later learn to be English with his father, grandmother and the staff. His aunt Athena, his grandparents and great grandparents also spoke to him, his siblings and his mother in German only.

By the age of six, Anthonie was perfectly bilingual and could speak fluently in both languages and understand both when spoken or written. Or at least, if you didn't count the words, he still didn't know yet.

It was at the age of four that his other lessons started. Lessons consisting of history and geography, dance, etiquette, art, music and arithmetic. His governess, Madame Beauchamp, who taught him French and German was also the one who taught him his etiquette lessons. Those consisted of being able to walk straight with two books on his head, learn the appropriate cutlery to use for which meal or side dish and how and when to bow for now.

Madame Beauchamp was kinder with him than with Johann. Johann was more of an active child than his younger brother and preferred to play outside than assisting to his more theoretical lessons. Although, at the age of nine now, the oldest scion to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire also had duelling, riding and magical theory lessons.

Contrary to his older brother, Anthonie enjoyed his lessons, particularly his history and geography, art and music lessons. In the beginning, history consisted mainly of family history on his father's side and, after the demands of his great grandfather, his family on his mother's side.

Professor Demers was his and his brother's tutor in history and geography and was the only one of his tutors that had academics in both the wizarding and Muggle world. He looked to be in his sixties, had short, slicked-back grey hair and had a friendly face. Professor Demers would always be dressed in black robes and would wear an equally black flat hat.

Hours at a time each day except for Sunday, Professor Demers would teach Anthonie about the ancient and long history of the Bousquet and Alhbrecht families. Going back all the way to 776 when Auguste I de Bousquet was made Count by Charlemagne to 1453 when Guillaume II de Bousquet was made Marquis de Beaudelaire following his service and great help in getting Gascon territory back from the English during the Hundred Years' War until the end of the seventeenth century with the (very) unpopular instalment of the International Wizarding Statute of Secrecy. After that, Professor Demers focused on the reputation of the House of Beaudelaire and how, with the First Pure-Blood Directory in 1729, it became the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire.

In parallel to this, the history of the Alhbrecht family only went back to the mid-seventeenth century and the First Northern War. Franz-Josef Alhbrecht became Count of Grimmen following the conflict. But the Noble House only made its place under the sun at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The echoes of Napoleon's might could be felt even in wizarding Prussia, and with the rising nationalism in the German States, Ludwig II of Grimmen took advantage of the situation to begin the unification of Germany in the wizarding world.

Stacks of pamphlets were put strategically in magical districts. Songs about a unified German nation could be heard in the streets; the singers were nowhere to be seen, though, as if it were the heavens themselves that were singing. Paintings were also commissioned. But most important of all, promises were made. Both to the people and the politicians.

All this work wasn't the result of a single man, though, nor even of an entire family. The House of Mordeel, from Hanover, had great interests in unifying the German States. Hanover was one of the economic centres of Western Europe in the wizarding world, and the House of Mordeel was particularly influent in this crossroad of intercontinental merchandise transport.

This all came together when, in 1824, wizarding Germany was officially unified under a _Kleindeutsche Lösung_, or Lesser German solution. Austria had made itself clear of being uninterested in being part of a greater German nation, Liechtenstein was on of the most nationalist nations of magical Europe, wizarding Switzerland had been neutral since the creation of the ICW since its headquarters were there, and Luxembourg's sovereignty was guaranteed by the Netherlands, France and Prussia. A bit like how Andorra was by France and Spain.

Professor Demers took an entire week covering the instalment of the wizarding French monarchy, which officially began in 1871 but only took real effect in 1883 when Verséans' construction was finished. It was the third case in History of a magical state fully separating itself from its Muggle counterpart; the first two being the notoriously isolationist Magical Congress of the United States of America and the more welcoming Magical Congress of the Pacific States of America. And later, in 1917, the magical Russian Empire would become the fourth.

Anthonie's history lessons stopped focusing solely on his extended family after he learnt about his great-grandfather's war exploit on the German Eastern Front during the Great War which resulted in receiving a medal and – through subterfuge and other tricks – a secretly animated portrait of himself in the Reichstag which was connected to another one in the Count's study at Grimmen Castle.

Geography was simpler than history. For now, it consisted of distinguishing the current maps of Muggle and wizarding Europe and know which country is where on the map and learn their capital(s).

It was so weird to see that the Muggles hadn't divided Scandinavia into three countries, but _five_. Norway, Sweden and Denmark were quite comprehensible why when someone took into consideration that Muggles were a thousand time more numerous than witches and wizards. And he guessed Finland also made sense since they spoke a completely unintelligible language to other Scandinavian countries. But why in Heaven and Hell was Iceland a sovereign nation?

The island was so laughingly isolated that it could be considered outside of Europe. Its population was too small for Muggles to possibly be self-sustainable in that climate. And didn't their ways of transport took days to cross the ocean, nowadays? It was comparatively better than the months it took them before, but still, why Iceland?

Transylvania didn't have the great autonomy it has in the wizarding world and was part of Romania. Dobrogea was also part of Romania instead of Bulgaria, which Anthonie thought compensated for the fact that Bessarabia was part of Russia. Muggles actually needed coastlines to support their economies.

The Netherlands didn't possess Flanders, nor did they have partial control over Wallonia. In fact, Flanders and Wallonia were both united in a country called 'Belgium' and they had some territory from Luxembourg. Indeed, the Muggles seemed to have partitioned the Grand Duchy until only its core around the capital was left.

The funniest, though, must have been Muggle Austria and Germany. Not even taking Bohemia in consideration and the fact it was independent and in a union of a sort with Slovakia, Austria didn't have South Tyrol and half of Germany was Polish _while Eastern Prussia was divided between Russia and Poland!_ Anthonie was far from being a purist, but what kind of _mongoloid _would give the birthplace of Prussia to Poland and Russia?

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_**(1): Communs: means common in French (plural). It's also the term used by French (and Walloon and Swiss) witches and wizards to name Muggles. It's less in-your-face than 'Non-Magique' which isn't even the correct form, that would be 'Sans-Magie(s)', and since Muggles outnumber wizardkind around something to a thousand Muggles for one witch/wizard this is a pretty accurate way to call them. **_

**A.N.: Please leave a review.**


	3. Au revoir

**A.N.: This chapter deals with the death of a character. It is not graphic in any way, but I prefer warning you in case some sensitive soul reads this. I would also like to thank Gen. Jok3r and delta123456789 for reviewing my last chapter and particularly Gen. Jok3r for his advice.**

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**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and I am not her nor do I get paid in any way, shape, or form for writing this.**

In 1983, Armand de Bousquet, Marquis of Beaudelaire, was afflicted by a bad case of Salamander's Flu which coincidentally made one of his old wounds act up again and resulted in giving him a permanent limp despite having fully recovered. In 1984, it was found he suffered from the Gorgon's Burden, a degenerative illness that slowly but surely petrified one's body, starting from one's feet upwards. There was no cure, and nothing could stop it. It generally was a question of one to four years before the petrification reached the lungs and killed its victims.

Lord Beaudelaire had woken up one morning and found out he couldn't move his left foot's toes. That wasn't alarming, after all, those were just toes. So, the noble didn't think anything about it until when two days passed with his toes immobilised, his other set of toes stopped moving too. That was… suspicious, if nothing else. A quick trip to the village's hospital and some multiple Diagnostic Charms diagnosed him with the aforementioned illness. Following this, Grandfather Armand slowly transitioned from walking around with a cane to not being able to control his legs and having to go around in a floating chaise longue. He was still able to do his desk work, but Albert officially became the seat holder in the Chiefconseil.

When his condition got too bad, Lord Beaudelaire officially abdicated to let his son take over the mantel of Marquess of Beaudelaire and send an official letter to the King. Mentally, it was taking its toll, not being able to fulfil his duties until his death, but the septuagenarian noble didn't let it show so as to not be pitied from his family.

A week after his resignation at the court, His Enlightened Majesty himself, King Philippe of France, came to the family residence to talk to his friend. It had been done incognito. The King had had four guards accompanying him, and no courtesans. They talked for hours, with the guards surveying the library's entrance. The time the two spent there seemed to be an eternity for everyone else in the edifice, family members and servants alike.

Anthonie was a bit too young to understand the gravity of the situation, but he could see how it was affecting Grandmother Clémence. Lady Beaudelaire slept and ate less and would sometimes be found looking into nothingness. It was weird watching this woman usually so in control and sometimes aloof being visibly affected by the slow death of her husband.

In December, Docteur Clairmont said the disease seemed to be progressing at a never seen before slow pace, and that maybe Grandfather Armand would survive three additional years. The family rejoiced, Grandmother Clémence most of them all. The Alhbrechts had been invited for the Yuletide and celebrated as usual in plus of the good news.

They were all in the Library, now, they had eaten their Christmas Eve feast and were exchanging gifts as was the tradition in, conveniently, both France and Germany. Anthonie hugged Grandfather Armand thank you for his gift when he heard his grandfather whisper in his ear, "_Adieu, Anthonie._" The arms around him loosened in their grip before falling at their owner's sides.

"_Grand-père?_" Anthonie asked, confused. He then looked at his grandfather, seeing no life and light in his eyes. "_Grand-père!_" Armand de Bousquet was dead. His magic had been slowing down the illness' progression, but it finally failed him and the disease took him out in an instant. The others looked at them after Anthonie's exclamation.

"_Armand?_ » Grandmother Clémence asked calmly. When she got no response, she knew immediately what happened. "_Armand!_"

She walked to her husband. As if by instinct, she shook his shoulders to see if he were asleep. But he didn't react.

"_Armand!_" she screamed. Tears were pouring out of her eyes and all rules of etiquette forgotten as she could only think about the fact that her worst nightmare, the one in which her husband dying, came true. "_Non! Armand, reviens, Armand. Ne t'en vas pas, Armand._"

The children were also crying, and Albert was silent despite the flow of tears pouring out of his face. Albert had to take his mother away from his father's lifeless body and embraced her. He continued to tear up as his mother sobbed in his arms. Alexandrina, on the other hand, was embracing her three crying children.

Lord Grimmen and his son looked sombre and bowed their heads while their respective wives and Athena looked shocked.

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The Library's bell rang in the Servants' Hall and Bélanger got up the stairs to see what the family desired. He found the family in a sombre mood with the children and the Marchioness crying, albeit quieter for the latter. He looked around to see what might have caused such a sudden mood change than from when he had left them. It was only when his eyes fell on his Lordship's flying chair that he understood. Although the man sitting in it had his back facing him, he could see his arms hanging lifelessly at his sides.

Lady Alexandrina, now Lady Beaudelaire he supposed, told him to tell the servants about the Marquess' passing away and asked him if he could send back Nanny Isabelle to fetch the children.

The butler got back down the stairs to the basement and walked towards the Servants' Hall. He called the house-elves from both the Palace and the Dower House while doing so. The staff was already reunited in the Servants' Hall, celebrating Christmas Eve and laughing while they played games or danced. One of the footmen noticed him entering and got up, closely followed by all the other servants who were seated, causing loud sounds of chairs scraping on the floor while doing so.

"_I am saddened to inform you that his Lordship, M. Armand, has…_" His voice failed him. For forty-three years he had served this family. Starting as his Lordship's own valet. They had been friends, while at Beauxbâtons, and Lord Auguste had offered him a job right out of school when his parents died in 1933 from the common flu because they had no money to buy medication, just like everybody else in the Muggle world.

"_What is it, M. Bélanger?_" Ollie, the youngest of the elves asked. Her voice was so full of innocence.

Bélanger took a deep breath, "_His Lordship, M. Armand, has only recently passed away due to his illness taking over._"

His message was met with gasps from the servants and whimpers from the house-elves, two of which actually fainted. He let them to their mourning as he went to isolate himself in his pantry.

On Christmas morning of the year 1986, the people of the Magical Kingdom of France saw on the front cover of their newspapers that the Marquess of Beaudelaire, Armand-Jean Constantin Joseph de Bousquet, passed away the precedent evening surrounded by his family as they exchanged their gifts.

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The family was all dressed in black in mourning for their lost member. Grandmother Clémence, now the Dowager Marchioness of Beaudelaire, was also wearing a black veil over her hat. The Alhbrechts would stay until the funeral and then go back to Germany. Speaking of funerals, it had been set for the second of January and would take place in Cardinal Mazarin's church in Verséans. Afterwards, Armand's casket would be put with his ancestors' in the family mausoleum back at Beaussiers. The human staff was invited to attend the ceremony. Bélanger had even been offered a place in the second row reserved for the deceased's friends.

Anthonie saw his grandfather's uncle, Lord Sylvester Oldham, for the first time, as well as many other distant cousins from all over Europe and even a cousin from Québec. The King was also present. The ceremony started with the bishop making a speech before he asked Albert to speak. Albert spoke very fondly of his father. About how grateful he was for everything he did to raise him well and to protect him when he was a child. Following him was Uncle Sylvester. The bishop spoke again before, surprising everyone, the King was asked to speak.

His Majesty spoke about the special relationship there was between the Royal Family and the three most loyal ones to the Crown: The Ducal Houses of Lorraine and Normandy, and the Ancient House of Beaudelaire, the last of the three senior families of the Kingdom's peerage. He told that he didn't simply see Armand as an advisor, but a friend, and that he would be forever grateful for his help. The King continued talking for a while and the bishop wrapped up the ceremony with a prayer, echoed by everyone in the church. The family waited at the church's doors while everyone whished them their sincere condolences. The peers came first, followed by the family friends, then the family.

"_Take care,_" Uncle Sylvester told them, particularly at his nephew's son and wife. "_I don't think I could survive the news of another death._"

Finally, the King came to them, they all bowed and curtsied to him and he slightly bowed his head in sign of respect.

"_My most sincere condolences, Lord Beaudelaire, Lady Beaudelaire. Armand was a great man, and I always valued his wisdom. May he forever Rest in Peace and that the Lord protects him beyond the Veil._

"_I hope the relationship between our two families will be able to endure and that we can both rely on each other for the betterment of the Kingdom, Lord Beaudelaire._"

"_Oui, Votre Majesté,_" said Albert.

"_Lady Beaudelaire,_" the King nodded to Grandmother Clémence.

"_Votre Majesté._"

They all bowed and curtsied as the King left them. Armand's casket was put into a mortuary carriage pulled by, fittingly, Sombrals. Anthonie didn't know what they were, but he found them scary and hoped he would never have to see them again. The Alhbrechts took a Portkey back to Germany while the other six Side-Along apparated back to Gascony. They waited in the Blue Drawing-Room for the carriage to arrive, which would take about an hour.

Once it arrived, the casket handlers levitated the casket to the small, gated entrance of the family mausoleum, which Albert opened with a custom-made spell created to be the unique thing able to open the entrance. They went down the stairs and passed the statue of an elven lady holding a white flame in her extended hand. They didn't have to go far, as the tombs magically changed place so that the oldest one would be at the very back of the lowest level and there being always two places for new deceased. Armand's body was levitated out of the casket and put into the empty tomb which magically carved onto a small blank board the words:

_Armand-Jean Constantin Joseph de Bousquet_

_Marquis de Beaudelaire_

_(1915-1986)_

The stone cover closed itself a moment after Armand was in the tomb, and the handlers exited the mausoleum. After a long moment of silence, Alexandrina and the children also left the mausoleum, leaving Albert and Clémence for their last goodbye. Both stayed there, looking at the tomb and remembering their time with Armand. A single tear went down Clémence's cheek and she wiped it off with her handkerchief.

"_Adieu, Armand._"

"Adieu,_ Père._"

Son and mother hugged each other and went up the stairs back to the surface. Albert closed back the mausoleum using the other spell made to close and lock the entrance to the mausoleum, and the two walked back to the Palace.

"_I __think I will move in the Dower House tomorrow,_" said Clémence.

"_No, Mama, you don't have to,_" replied Albert. "_Alexandrina and I don't need the Marchioness' Bedroom, and I don't want you to go live alone while you are mourning Father._"

"_Merci._"

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**A.N.: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review.**


	4. Tutors and Wands

**A.N.: Chapters will ****get longer after this one, as the British Isles and some of the canon characters will be introduced. I'm also sorry for the quality of this chapter. Despite having been really inspired when I wrote it (some seven months ago), I feel like this is my weakest chapter. Hope you still like it, though. Please leave a review, I want to know your opinions about this story, good or bad. It's okay if you're a bit blunt about it, you physically and mentally cannot criticise me more than I already do myself.**

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**Disclaimer: The magical world of Harry Potter has been introduced to us by Miss Rowling, not by me.**

Anthonie's music and singing lessons were at first at a different time from his brother's. But it turned out that the middle child of the family had more natural talent than his older brother in those subjects, thanks to Fae Marigold, the one that blessed him with creativity and passion for the arts, and as such he was able to join his brother. In a matter of a year and a half, Anthonie reached Johann's level in singing and playing his respective instruments. The two boys were taught by Madame Mona. Madame Mona was a plump, middle-aged woman with an olive complexion betraying her Corsican origins. She also had dark bushy shoulder-length hair and golden half-moon glasses.

Johann would play the cello or the clarinet while she taught Anthonie how to play the violin and the harpsichord. When Catherine joined them, she was taught the flute and the harp. She joined her older brothers for those lessons at age seven, making Anthonie and Johann respectively nine and twelve years old. In later years, Anthonie chose to learn how to play the flute and the piano.

When the three siblings were in singing lessons, Johann would be mezzo, Anthonie mezzo-soprano and little Catherine would be a soprano. When it was the two boys only at the beginning, Anthonie was soprano and Johann mezzo-soprano. But when the older boy started those lessons, Madame Mona made him start from mezzo-soprano because, as she said, she could sense he would be an alto.

They would sing songs like _La Flûte Enchantée, My Favourite Spell _introduced by Celestina Warbeck and of course the national anthem: _Grand Dieu Sauve le Roy_. Although music was far from being inexistent in the magical World, the sheer number of Muggleswas such that their music still entered their world three centuries after the implant of the Statute of Secrecy. Not that it wasn't nice to discover Mozart, Beethoven, and Tchaikovsky, but they could have done without those horrid sound combinations the Muggles called 'Rock' and 'Heavy Metal'. At least Rock could pass for singing if you were hard-of-hearing, but Metal was just screaming and letting your tongue out while playing electrical instruments so high you could even hear them over the blood streaming out of your ears. The worst of it was that there were already young witches and wizards who decided to play this travesty of music and play it in their world. And apparently, there were more kinds of horrid music where it came from. Figures. As much as there were Muggles, it shouldn't be surprising there would be as many musical tastes or lack thereof.

As for the pieces young Anthonie would play, it started with simple things like _The Man from the Moon and the Lady from the Sun_ on the harpsichord and _Spring_ of Vivaldi on the violin, but it quickly grew more complicated. So much even, that at the age of eleven, Anthonie played _Danse Chinoise_ from the Nutcracker suite with on the piano and Mendelssohn's Concerto in E Minor on the violin. He still had problems with the latter, but he would get the hang of it.

For his dance lessons, Anthonie was the middle one in terms of talent between his siblings. Little Catherine was as light on her feet as a feather and was simply a natural, while Johann, although far from not being graceful, was more awkward on his feet. Anthonie was both graceful and light on his feet, but at the same time was a bit embarrassed at wearing tights and nothing over them. Their dance teacher was Fraülein Schneider. Fraülein Schneider was a Squib from Austria and had learnt dance and ballet at the Private Dance Academy of Vienna and the Vienna State Opera's ballet academy respectively. She was a beautiful and thin woman in her late twenties and had dirty blonde hair held in a tight bun and blue eyes.

Johann liked the lessons at first because it was the only one in which he could move, but with the duel, fencing and horse riding lessons added to his timetable, later on, those quickly became his favourites and he grew to dislike dancing lessons because he thought they were too girly.

Anthonie liked the lessons, but he felt slightly awkward every time he danced. But he knew the importance of knowing how to dance in high society and how it brought good side effects in duelling.

* * *

Over the years, Anthonie had had other spouts of accidental magic. Once, at age six, when he stopped wearing dresses, he had received a brown tweed suit for when he and his family would go into the Muggle world. The thing is, Brown was his least favourite colour and he really didn't like the fabric the suit was made of. So, in a burst of deep disgust, the suit became baby blue and the tweed was transfigured into barathea.

Another time, at age seven, Leopold, the family dog, had played a little bit too rough with Anthonie's favourite teddy bear. Anthonie had had this teddy bear since he was two and cried loudly when he discovered it. While hugging his now nearly headless favourite cuddly toy, the teddy bear magically repaired itself and after he noticed, the young boy slowly stopped crying.

Anthonie had had other cases of accidental magic much more casual such as Accio-ing books or toys to him or making light in the corridors when he had to go to the loo during the night.

On his eighth birthday, Anthonie went with his father to Boulevard Viviane, one of the two boulevards of the magical district in Paris, to go buy his wand. Contrary to its British equivalent, which was narrow and still had a medieval architecture, le Troisième-et-Demi Arrondissement was a hidden district made out of expanded space between two boulevards around the Arch of Triumph. The expanded space had been shaped like two boulevards connected by a street on each end and a large alley in the middle. There were also three residential squares and the secret entrance, facing South, was named 'la Porte d'Occitanie'.

It wasn't unusual for old and powerful European pure-blood families to buy wands for their children before they had to go to school, it was even an unwritten tradition. Exploiting the fact that the decrees of underage magic (with some countries not having any, like Russia and Liechtenstein) applied in practice only to those who lived in the Muggle world. In other words, the children of old pure-blood families living in their ancestral homes had nothing to worry about in concern to activating their Trace.

Albert de Bousquet led his youngest son by the hand to the best wandmaker of the country, Lampron. Lampron's shop had double, aquamarine doors with one great and clear shop window on each side letting sunlight enter the shop. Over the double doors was a sign that said in silver letters _Lampron: Fabricants de baguettes magiques de pères en fils, depuis 1627_.

The shop looked to have two distinct sections, on the left were thousands of narrow boxes neatly put on shelves going up to the two-story high ceiling. On the right, there were posters of wands and what they looked inside and lists of available wood and wand cores. Some of the listed core were common things like Phœnix feathers, Unicorn hair, Kneazle whiskers and Dragon heartstrings and some more uncommon such as Thestral hair, Kelpie mane and Veela hair. There were even some vegetable cores like Mandrake and Dittany stalk.

Albert rang the bell on the counter and M. Lampron arrived from a door leading into another room. M. Lampron looked to be in his fifties, he had short silver hair held back with a tad bit of Sleekeazy and piercing green eyes behind round glasses. He wore a knee-length silver frock with bronze buttons attached from the top to his waist and black pants, white dress shirt sleeves peeked out just a tad bit from his frock sleeves.

« _Good afternoon, Lord Beaudelaire. Twelve inches and a quarter made of Elm and with a dragon heartstring core. Rigid. Excellent for charms and spells, especially sophisticated and capable of very advanced magic,_ » greeted the wandmaker in the usual way wand makers greeted people. « _I see it is time for young M. Anthonie to have his wand._

« _Now, M. Anthonie, am I right to suppose you are right-handed?_ » the wandmaker asked in a grandfatherly tone softer than what his own grandfather used.

« _Yes,_ » answered Anthonie, nodding.

M. Lampron also nodded and then snapped his fingers and a long tape measure and a parchment and a quill appeared. The measuring tape took multiple measures by itself. Shoulder from fingertips, shoulder to elbow, fingertip to knuckle, wrist to elbow, knee to armpit, round his head and wrist, between his eyes, from shoulder to shoulder, top of the head to the base of the neck, his neck length and from waist to neck.

While the tape was measuring, the quill was writing on the floating parchment. M. Lampron looked at the measures and what looked to be a genealogical tree but with wand descriptions instead of names and went to pick some of the narrow boxes on the shelves and put them on the counter. The wandmaker snapped once more his fingers and the measuring tape and quill vanished, but the parchment remained and went to land on the counter.

« _Please try this one,_ » said M. Lampron. « _Hazel, Unicorn hair, eleven inches, quite springy._ »

Anthonie took the wand, but the moment his skin made contact with the wood, the wand zapped to its box.

« _Not that one,_ » said the fifty-something looking man. « _Maybe this one, elm, Phœnix feather, thirteen inches and a half, solid._ »

Nothing happened when Anthonie picked up the wand, but when he gave it a wave, like instructed by the wand maker, one of the shop windows exploded.

« _Aah!_ » screamed Anthonie.

The glass shards had been stopped within seconds thanks to a quick flick of a wand by M. Lampron. With a wave from his wand, the broken window repaired itself and looked like nothing had happened to it.

« _So not elm, it seems,_ » M. Lampron muttered to himself. He took the third of the fives wands he picked. « _Elder, Phœnix feather, ten inches and three-quarters, unyielding._ »

The wood of the wand was black, but the handle was covered in artistically designed silver with a small silver sphere at its base. When Anthonie took hold of the wand he immediately felt warmth, but something seemed to miss.

« _It doesn't feel right, sir,_ » said Anthonie.

The wandmaker looked at him in the eyes and went to pick the wand in the fifth and last box. The wand was an orangish brown with a touch of pink in the grain. It was covered by a constellation design and had no defined handle like wands often, but do not always, have.

« _Beech, Unicorn hair, eleven inches and a half, springy._ »

When Anthonie took it, he felt a more complete warmth and M. Lampron smiled knowingly. He gave it a wave and stream of blue and silver sparks shot from the tip.

« _Normally, M. Anthonie, I would say that we found your match,_ » started M. Lampron. « _But the thing is, the wand of elder I presented you has been made by my late great-grandfather and has never come even close to considering so strongly a wizard._

« _Elder wood is said to choose very unusual people with a very special destiny, and this combined with the feather of an extremely picky Phœnix, I think that if you are to buy this wand it will be a perfect match if given time to know you. I would say by the time you go to school in three years this wand and you will share a strong bond._

« _I do not usually do this, no wandmaker does this regularly, but I would be ready to sell both of them to you with both the price of a first wand if your father accepts._ »

« _Can we please, papa?_ » asked Anthonie.

« _Of course, we can, dear,_ » said Albert. The Marquis now looked to the older man in the room: « _We'll buy both wands with two holsters, M. Lampron._"

The wandmaker bowed his head: « _Of course, Lord Beaudelaire. It's always a pleasure doing business with your family._ » He put the two wands back in their box and wrapped the two of them in silvery paper. He went into the back room and came back after a while with two leather holsters. He put them in a box and put the two packages in a light grey bag for easier transport.

« _Well, it was a pleasant surprise,_ » said Albert once they were outside the shop and into the calm street, holding his son by the hand.

He looked at his son who had his hair, but shoulder length. That was one of the rare features they shared and even then, those of Anthonie were a pale blond while his own were dirty-blonde. The other features they shared were his handsome eyebrows and his more relaxed facial traits than his wife. The rest was all from the boy's mother, sapphire blue instead of icy blue eyes, sickly pale skin instead of slightly tanned, narrow shoulders and not broad. He even had his mother's refined and sharp nose and smile.

« _Ready to apparate back home?_ » he asked.

« _Yes,_ » said Anthonie.

And in an instant, they were gone from the Parisian street and back in Gascony, at the gates of the land surrounding their home.

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**A.N.: Again, please review. It helps in my writing.**


	5. Nothing Compares to an English Autumn

**A.N.: Our main character first sets foot on the British Isles and makes some friends. Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

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On his tenth birthday, 19 May 1987, Johann had an important choice to make. He had many options for which school he could go to come on the first of September after his eleventh birthday.

The first obvious choice was Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic because he was born and lived for most of the year in France. He even had friends living in Bâtons-Verts, the village neighbouring the school. His father, his paternal grandparents and the great majority of the born Bousquets went to the French school of magic.

His next obvious choice was AntmutigerPönix Institute for Germanic witches and wizards. His mother was German, or Prussian as his grandfather and great grandfather insisted, and he lived a couple of months a year in Grimmen Castle.

Hell! He could even go to the Roman Catholic Institute of Sorcery thanks to grandmother Letizia, but he wouldn't because he didn't want to become some boring ecclesiastic. And his Italian was rusty at best anyway.

No, he wanted to go to Durmstrang. He knew it had a bad reputation, but he wanted a challenge, an adventure. And his best friend, Magnus Densen, would go there next year. And on top of that, it would give him the chance to practice his Danish and Swedish and learn some other Northern languages. Mother would love that.

Johann waited until the next week and during that time he considered all his schooling options. He wouldn't give the chance to his father of saying he hadn't thought this through. Johann's father had had a very idyllic childhood and had been raised to have a very black and white vision of the world. Born one year before the end of Grindelwald's War, that was how many people felt and so it influenced his upbringing.

Grandfather Armand had done everything in his power to protect his only child from the horrors of the world and taught him the Dark Arts were strictly bad. This, coupled with Father's fairytale-like lifestyle at the Palais des Beaussiers and then at Beauxbâtons, made him grow up to be naive of the world and prevented him of developing the healthy pragmatism his mother tried so hard to implement in him so that he could be a competent political man.

It was only after he married Alexandrina that he started to grow out of this narrow mindedness. Started being the keyword. He may have got over the fact that his grandfather-in-law was spell-crafting curses and reading ancient and dark grimoires on his free time, but he would be damned if he sent his own eldest son, his apparent heir to his title and seat, to go learn the Dark Arts in some unknown location in the Arctic.

The week came and passed and Johann brought up the subject at tea, in the library. The library was inside one of the towers of the manor, the others being the Aviary, the Observatory, and the house-elves quarters. The latter being smaller and also emptier compared to the others and when it was first used.

The ground floor of the library was mostly used as an informal sitting-room and its two sofas and multiple armchairs and _bergères_ around a coffee table made of black oak beside the fireplace were regularly used by the family during tea time and some Yuletide evenings by the family as well as to write letters or complete paperwork on the mahogany desk in one of the corners.

Only two walls on the ground floor were filled by bookshelves and one of them had a door concealed in it. Another one was mostly occupied by a large fireplace made of white and dark marble.

Over its mantelpiece stood proudly the portrait of the original Marquis and Marchioness of Beaudelaire: Jacques I de Bousquet and Ilderith de Bousquet née Galanodel. On the opposite side of the fireplace were high French windows leading to the back gardens.

The other floors were more like large balconies hanging from the walls which were filled with bookshelves. Stairs connected the multiple floors by passing from one edge of the tower to the other, passing over the nothingness filling the centre of the tower and kind of looking like a web if one were to look up from the bottom. Antique, rolling and extendable wooden stairs were on every floor to let the family members reach the higher shelves.

The family's tea had been served and the servants had left to give them privacy, the trays left on the service table so they could serve themselves cakes and biscuits or refill their cups.

« _Father, I finally made my decision,_ » said Johann. Albert nodded in acknowledgement for his eldest son to continue, making the wise decision of not taking a sip of tea before the reveal. « _Father, I want to go to Durmstrang. _»

« _What? _» said Albert, surprised and not pleased at what his son said. Surely he only misheard.

« _I weighed up the pros and cons all week and came to the conclusion that I prefer, out of all my options, Durmstrang._ »

« _Are you sure about this, darling?_ » his mother asked softly.

« _You can't be serious about this,_ » said Albert to his wife. « _I won't send our son, my heir, in the Arctic to share a dormitory with a Dark Lord in the making!_ »

« _Albert –,_ » started Alexandrina before being interrupted by her husband who rose up.

« _No, Alexandrina, he won't go there. I won't allow it! _»

« _Albert! _» sternly said Clémence. Albert shut is mouth and turned from his wife to look at his mother, properly ashamed. « _Look at you, shouting at your wife, and in front of your children, no less. Your father and I raised you better than this. Johann made a decision and took his time to make it. Your son evaluated his choices and took into consideration the good and the bad._ »

« _But Mama –,_ »

« _No 'but's. Now apologize to your wife for shouting at her and to your children for scaring them._ »

Albert did as his mother ordered and they continued their discussion. After taking a calming intake of air and a sip of tea, Albert asked Johann why he wanted to go to Durmstrang and Johann told his family about Magnus going to Durmstrang, how he could practice his Swedish and Danish and learn some other Nordic languages and how he wanted to go where no one from their extended family went to in living memory and the teachers wouldn't be biased because of some family member that went along or not with them. He wanted to make the most he could of his path on his own.

His parents respected his decision and Albert went to the desk in the corner of the library to write a letter to the school.

_Dear Headmaster Karkaroff…_

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On the first of September of the year 1988, the Bousquet and Alhbrecht families found themselves on a port in a hidden cave on the island of Gotland where floated a ship that looked to date from the fifteenth century. All the students would have to board the ancient-looking ship to go to the Scandinavian school of magic.

Johann was already in his uniform: a heavy, deep red tunic with a black sash at the waist, black trousers and black leather boots with a light fur cloak that he brought from home with a small Cooling Charm on it that he could easily deactivate. They may have been in Sweden, but it was still summer after all.

« _Have a good term, sweetheart, don't forget to call us every week on your mirror and say hello to Magnus for us when you see him,_ » said Alexandra, hugging her departing son and giving him a kiss on each cheek, causing said son to blush in embarrassment.

« _Yes, Mama. _»

« _Have a good term, son, and make me proud,_ » said Albert, smiling and shaking his son's hand firmly.

Anthonie and Catherine went to hug him and said their goodbyes, Johann awkwardly returning their hug.

Johann proceeded to say goodbye and hug the rest of his family. After that, he took his magically expanded and lightened trunk. He told his family a last collective goodbye before going on the ship and searching for his best friend.

After the ship began to sail away to the Arctic part of Norway, the extended family portkeyed back to Frankfurt. From there they all apparated to Grimmen Castle's front gates. Albert taking his son's hand and Alexandrina her daughter's. Once there, the Bousquets went inside the castle into the Entrance Hall and flooed back home in France.

Once back there, Albert had shown a bit of a pout which had been seen by his mother. Shortly ensued a discussion about how unbecoming pouting was and that Johann would be fine at Durmstrang.

« _It's not as bad as it seems,_ » said grandmother Clémence. « _You could have sent him to Koldovstoretz, or worse, the Americas._ »

This put a smile on Albert's face and caused the children to laugh.

* * *

_October 1988_

While Johann was at Durmstrang for the autumn term of his first year, the rest of the family were in London to visit Albert's great-uncle, Sylvester Oldham. Sylvester worked in Muggle relations for the British Ministry of Magic. He served as the liaison between the Royal Family and the Ministry, to be more precise. He was also a seat holder on the Wizengamot, the upper legislative assembly of wizarding Great Britain and Ireland. The Wizengamot consisted of the heads or proxies of many noble Houses (or Warlocks, as they were called in the assembly) as well as the heads of the Ministry's departments, the Minister himself, the Minister's cabinet, and the Chief Warlock.

Anthonie already knew some English and some practice could only help him, that was why his parents and his great-great-uncle organized some evenings with some of Sylvester's friends and political allies who had children the age of Anthonie and who also knew French.

The family spent most days visiting touristic attractions of the British Isles ranging from the Tower of London to Stonehenge, from Hogsmeade to the Giant's Causeway as well as a great number of museums. They even had the immense privilege of having a short visit to Buckingham Palace at the Queen's discretion even though they were in October.

When visiting cities, the family was dressed like an aristocratic family… a pre-Great War Muggle Aristocratic family, that is. But with Notice-Me-Not Charms on their white clothes, the wizarding family passed incognito, attracting only glances from meticulously perceptive observers.

While visiting Diagon Alley, the family went into a bookshop called Flourish and Blotts and the parents bought _Hogwarts: a history _for Anthonie after he asked for it. Since Johann had chosen his school, Anthonie had wanted to know all about the magical schools in Western Europe and Hogwarts was the only one which they had no tangible information on. They already had _L'Épopée de Beauxbâtons _and _Geschichte von AntmutigerPönix _at home and for information on the Roman Catholic Institute of Sorcery, they would have to ask Grandmother Letizia for stories about her time at the school since there wasn't any book on the school because its community was so small. And considering the magical population was already small by Muggle standards, it really said something.

Anthonie found Hogwarts' history fascinating, but what interested him the most was surely the houses and points system. It called his competitive side and just the fact that students were separated based on their personality intrigued him immensely.

It would be a shame, of course, were he to go there, that he would miss the silk robes, frocks and capes of the Beauxbâtons uniform. And in powder blue as well! But to be fair, Hogwarts' uniform had its own charm. Unisex, it consisted of a tight-sleeved gown of one's own house colour under a pitch-black buttoned robe with the house crest on it and a sash belt also of the house colour. Scarves and cloaks could be added to the robes during winter and contrary to Beauxbâtons, the hat's uniform could be of any design as long as it followed the sizes limitations. The school also offered a Muggle brand of the uniform, consisting of sweaters, cardigans, dress shirts, trousers and skirts to be worn under their black robe.

Tonight, there would be one of the few evenings Uncle Sylvester had organized. Sylvester had invited the Greengrasses, the Fawleys and the Boneses. The old English Earl would have invited Augusta and her grandson so that Anthonie would have another boy to talk to during the evening, but he barely knew any French.

Dinner was set at nineteen o'clock, but the guests had been invited for half-passed eighteen so that they could socialize.

Since before tea, Anthonie was reading one of the fantasy novels his great-great-uncle bought him, telling him no one could really experience British culture at its fullest without reading those novels.

The novel in question was an original version of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and despite the fact it was written in a language he wasn't completely fluent in, he absolutely loved it. Medieval, but most importantly, pre-Statute of Secrecy Britain seemed like such a different world, but yet was very similar to his own. Anthonie had obviously heard of the story of _the _Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick, but he hadn't known about how apparently there were also two other relics to be as powerful: the Stone of Resurrection and the Cloak of Invisibility.

Cloaks of invisibility were, of course, common items, but those could be seen through with the right spells. They were only made of Demiguise fur and they were detectable by magic, one only had to know the right spells. But this cloak was rumoured to pass unseen even through See-Throughout Charms and every detection charms so its bearer could escape Death.

Anthonie had changed at eighteen o'clock in his powder-blue dress robes and brushed his hair a bit. He powdered his pinkish nose a little and finally went down with his book to the drawing-room on the first floor where his great-great-uncle and father were already talking. Anthonie seated himself on a chaise longue and continued his reading before his father talked to him.

« _How was your afternoon, dear?_ » asked Albert.

« _Interesting and uneventful, just as I like it_, » answered the boy. « _I spent it reading one of the books Uncle Sylvester bought me_. »

"Oh?" said Sylvester. "Which one was it."

At this point, Anthonie had closed his book again with his bookmark marking the page he was at and put it on the small table beside him where there was a lamp.

« _The Tales of Beedle the Bard. I particularly like the tale of the Three Brothers. I find the story of the middle brother very poetic despite its sadness_. »

Soon after that, Clémence, Alexandrina and Catherine entered the room. They chatted for a bit and, not even a minute after the clock rang eighteen o'clock, the Drawing Room's door leading to the hall opened and Bélanger announced the arrival of Madam Bones and her niece, Susan. He then exited the room to give them privacy.

Madam Bones had a square jaw, greying auburn hair and had a monocle on her right eye. She wore a sober, but elegant set of almost black grey robes and a sort of smaller version of the Wizengamot hat matching her robes.

Contrasting her aunt, Susan wore a light yellow dress dropping at the lower half of her shins and with short, puffy sleeves. She wore a kind of white sash on her waist and flat emerald green shoes. Susan's cheek had still a tad bit a baby fat and her long auburn hair made in a single, elegant plait complemented her hazel coloured eyes similar to her aunt's.

Although they were well off, Amelia and Susan Bones dressed very soberly compared to the more creative and eccentric well-born witches and wizards, but that was mostly due to the personality of the former.

The two new arrivals greeted the family members one after the other, starting with Sylvester whom Amelia already knew. Both new arrivals were kind but still reserved.

"Good evening, M. Beaudelaire," said Amelia to Anthonie. Usually, if Johann was present, she would have to call him 'M. Anthonie' so as to differentiate him from his older brother who was the direct heir and Anthonie the spare.

"Good eeveneeng, _Madame_ Bones" Anthonie replied in unsure English with a very strong French accent. "Eet eez a pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands and Amelia put a small smile for his efforts and went to greet Alexandrina and Catherine, the latter who would have to be scotched to one of the adults from her family for them to translate to her in French what was said in English.

"Good evening, M. Beaudelaire," greeted Susan, she did a small curtsy and Anthonie slightly bowed his head. Anthonie replied politely and they shook hands for Susan to go greet his mother and sister.

After that, they all took place on the settee and the other seats near the fireplace and started talking about each other's interests and such. For people outside of those social circles, it would seem like they were just trying to learn more about the others, but for pure-bloods, it was also a subtle and discreet way of determining who was worthy or a blood-traitor. Of course, no one in this drawing-room cared about these beliefs.

They talked about the children's lessons and a bit about their friends. As for concerning the adults, they talked a bit about politics, what was happening in the legislative chambers and also a bit about the war. Anthonie and his family (minus Sylvester) learned about the terrible fate the Bones family suffered during the Blood War, as the British called their civil war that ended seven years ago. They learned that Amelia and her two brothers had all been in Hufflepuff during their schooling in Hogwarts and that Susan wished to be sorted there like them.

When asked about where Anthonie would go for his schooling, he answered that he was considering between Beauxbâtons and Hogwarts. They started to talk about international politics when the door was once more opened by Bélanger.

"The Lord and Lady Fawley and their daughter," he announced. He let three people enter and left the room and closed the door behind his back after bowing his head to the newest arrivals.

Owen Fawley was a tall man with short reddish-brown hair and brown eyes and was dressed in fine black robes while Selene Fawley had long dirty blond hair held high and green eyes, she wore a regal-looking light blue dress reminiscent of the early 1890s with amethyst earrings and a matching necklace. Their daughter, Sybil, had dirty blond hair with a hint of red in it and brown eyes like her father. She wore a purple dress with elbow-length sleeves with an indigo cape.

Sylvester introduced his family and other guests to the Fawleys and they continued their conversation from before after they were all seated.

The three eight-year-olds started some small talk between them. Anthonie's thickly accented English was somewhat difficult for the two girls to understand. Less for Sybil than Susan, though, since the former had a better grasp of French grammar and pronunciation which made her quicker to understand what the French boy was saying than the half-blood girl.

Anthonie had to often ask them what was the English translation of this or that French word and the trio also spoke in French to give the blond boy a pause.

And Anthonie really didn't help his case at all, preferring to use refined words, some of which complicated to pronounce for him. The girls tried to give him some advice on pronunciation and some substitute words more similar to French ones. The two English girls could only respect the efforts and determination of the boy who was simultaneously learning Latin, Italian and Spanish at a more advanced level at the same as time as their own native language.

They were currently speaking of the colour in fashion this month and the new isolationist laws MACUSA had passed, making more difficult to enter the country for those living outside of the Americas. The drawing room's door opened to reveal the Greengrasses guided by Bélanger.

While everyone greeted the last guests to come for the evening, Anthonie discovered that Lady Anastasia Greengrass and Lady Selene Fawley were sisters. The both of them were born Greengrass and Anastasia made their name prevail by marrying Arcturius Selwyn, youngest of four children, while Selene married Owen Fawley.

Just like in the other wizarding nations of Europe (Russia being the sole exception for unknown reasons since they were currently ruled by a woman) and some countries like Canada, Australia and New Zealand, British witches could continue the line of succession of their House if they didn't marry the apparent heir (male) of another House. The succession legislation had been passed in 1919 after most of the pure-blood families found themselves in lack of sons and had only daughters left following the Great War. And so it was like this that the third wave of wizarding feminism ended in what Anthonie's grandmother would call the 'civilized world' and started for the rest.

Arcturius Greengrass was brown-haired with greying locks, blue-silver eyed and his face looked to have been forced to age too quickly due to stress. The male consort was actually forty-three years old but looked like fifty-one. His looks hadn't been the primary reason he'd been married twelve years ago, though, and he knew it. No, he'd been chosen for his duelling skills and his serious personality. You'd be surprised, but the latter had been the first thing Anastasia had been attracted by, closely followed by his duelling skills.

Anastasia was silvery blonde, green-eyed and looked overall like the model aristocratic woman, a bit like Anthonie's mother, actually. She was dressed in white silk and emerald green velvet and had a small, simple silver tiara on her head – smaller than Alexandrina's pearl-encrusted tiara and Clémence's diamond and sapphire encrusted diadem.

Straight silvery blonde mane, green eyes, high cheekbones, narrow face and porcelain-like skin, Daphne Greengrass looked like a younger version of her mother. The only visible differences between mother and daughter, apart from their height and age difference, was their hairstyle and clothing. While Anastasia had her hair up in an intricate way to accentuate her tiara, Daphne had hers down and pulled back by a black headband.

Lastly, Astoria, while also being quite similar to her mother and had her green eyes, had her hair styled like her sister, but shoulder length, and instead of blonde had the same dark brown colour has her father's. Astoria had also an off-look about her, even though her mother and sister were quite pale, she was even more so. And through her smile, you could see some fatigue in her facial traits.

Daphne and Sybil, already knowing each other personally, were very friendly toward one another. Anthonie and Daphne got along swimmingly well quickly and as the time passed the conversation between the four eight-year-olds grew more comfortable and familiar.

The door opened, yet again, when the clock on the fireplace's mantel rang nineteen o'clock and entered Bélanger. Sylvester then announced that dinner was ready and they all proceeded to the dining room, continuing on their discussions along the way until they entered the room.

In the middle of the room stood a long, oval-shaped, dark oak-made table draped in a white tablecloth covered with silver cutlery and plates, crystal glasses and silver candelabras. Attached from the ceiling hung a bronze chandelier. The orange candlelight that lit the room laid out well with the sunset orange colour of the wallpaper.

On a side of the room was a service table and on it were the plates containing the dish to be served as well as some carafes of wine, red and white, and juices for the children. Above it hung an enormous portrait of Queen Victoria in a white and golden gown and crown on her head.

Anthonie was seated with Daphne on his right and Sybil on his left, who had Madam Bones and Sylvester on their other side respectively. They changed conversation partners at every service. And so Anthonie spoke with Daphne for the fish, with Sybil for the soup, back with Daphne for the salad, again with Sybil during the main course, with Daphne while the adults took a glass of Calvados and finally with Sybil for dessert. The cheese and fruits were forgone and Anthonie and the ladies went back to the drawing-room while the men stayed back for a while in the dining room. The men rejoined the women and children in the drawing-room ten minutes later at fourteen passed twenty-two and the guests went back home at half passed twenty-two using the Floorwalkers.

Anthonie was changed in his sleeping gown, attached his hair, washed his face and brushed his teeth before being tucked in by his mother.

They had other evenings like this throughout October and Anthonie saw Daphne and Sybil again and they became quite good friends of his.

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**A.N.: Please review, I desperately need feedback.**

**Edit: I changed the segments mentioning the doorbell ringing since I realised the guests would arrive by Floo and not by Apparating in front of the house.**


	6. Ostara and Tea at the Greengrass'

**A.N.: Traditions, a smudge of religion granted to you by Grandfather Wilhelm, how is it being a magical landowner, how do the Bousquets interact with the Muggle villagers and tenants, another canon character (if only in name) is introduced, and some additional history and world-building. Hope you like the chapter.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not.**

_1989_

Since Anthonie could remember, his family always spent the last two weeks of March and the first two of April at Grimmen Castle to celebrate Ostara and Easter. Johann had come back from school last Saturday and had been telling his extended family about school since Yule.

Grandfather Friedrich was a devout believer of the pagan traditions and celebrated religiously the wheel of seasons' eight celebrations: Imbolc in February; Ostara, the spring equinox, in March; Beltane in April; Litha, the Summer solstice, in June; Luchnassad in July; Mabon, the Autumn equinox, in September; Samhain in October, and finally Yule, the Winter solstice, in December. And so, every year, on the twenty-first of March, the extended family would go to the ritual circle of the domain deep into the forest nearby the castle and participated in a ritual to ask the favours of God, Nature, Magic and the Stars.

In Autumn, the circle would be decorated with fresh red and orange leaves and berries and nuts. A sample of everything harvested at the end of the second half of the hot season from both the French and Prussian domain would be offered as a sacrifice and in exchange what had been harvested would last longer into the cold season than it normally would and the lands wouldn't be as affected by the snow and cold as they should be.

But in Spring, the circle would be decorated with freshly picked flowers of every imaginable colour. The Autumn offerings were composed of only the vegetables and fruits growing in the fields or the forests as well as a specimen from every late Summer seasonal magical plants. The sole exceptions were the sacrifices of a goat or sheep, but the Spring offerings centred around the livestock products: milk, wool, eggs, honey, grease, hide, powdered horns, mane hairs or venoms. There was also a cup of ice berry juice and some petals of winter tulips as offerings for the vegetal component of the sacrifice.

As mentioned earlier, the ritual circle was decorated with dozens of flowers each of different colours. Samhain was to be sober and simple for the future restraint the habitants of the land would have to show as to not consume all the gatherings before Spring. In the same way of thinking, Ostara was to be rich and abundant for the future abundance that would come with the defrost of the soil.

Anthonie had been told by his parents that those sorts of practices were slowly, but surely, disappearing with the decline in the population of pure-bloods. He also had been told that progressive extremists considered their old traditions barbaric and dark magic. It was also those same people that pushed to restrain magic in its uses and to forget wizarding culture and traditions. But his grandmother Letizia always told him and his siblings that even though these measures were pushed in the name of security for the Muggles and Muggle-borns, that most of them (the Muggle-borns) were only victims of a very badly thought integration plan made by their own peers almost three-hundred years ago.

This year, grandfather Friedrich had said he would give him some private lessons during the Spring Celebrations. Anthonie had been told by Johann that he already had had some and that they were about magic, but he didn't tell him more about it. Anthonie's great grandfather had brought him to the North tower for the lesson. Anthonie had been told to never go there alone and without explicit permission from his great grandfather. The entire tower was reserved exclusively to the one-hundred-thirty-something Prussian's laboratories, private library, observatory and dungeons.

The tower was physically apart from the castle, only connected by a corridor on the ground floor, and had nine stories over the ground and six under it. Three of the underground ones serving as 'security' and containing powerful enchantments, magical protections and booby traps. Only an archmage of Arithmancy fully versed into the theory of Chaos could possibly have any chance to find a modicum of sense of logic into how to possibly pass through without permission or dispel it without instantly dying of multiple gruesome deaths. The most profound level being around twenty miles underground.

While getting up the stairs in direction of the second floor, Anthonie's great grandfather didn't let go of his hand for one second until they arrived at the wanted floor. Where there should have been a door was a rune-covered archway completely filled with dark iron. There were no hinges, gaps, lock or doorknob, just a plain-looking, rusty block of iron. Beside it was a marble slab and engraved in it was written '_Zauberkunst Labor_'.

Grandfather made some intricate movements with his wand and the multitude of runes glowed purple before the iron block disappeared. No, not disappeared, vanished. The correct term in Transfiguration was vanishing, Anthonie had read. They went through the archway and, as soon as they were fully into the room, the iron block reappeared. Maybe a little too soon if Anthonie was honest.

The circular, graved stone-made room was emptier than Anthonie expected from a laboratory.

The right side of the room was completely bare. Devoid of furniture or embellishments. Anthonie assumed it was used for the practical side of the experiments or plain practice of the room's designated subject of study. Although no sign of any charm Anthonie could think of. There were no scorch marks, clean cuts or even the smallest of holes caused by a Piercing Charm.

On the left side, though, the room seemed to be used as a sort of office, where the theoretical side of the subject was being researched. There was a great, lit fireplace with multiple instruments and trinkets on its mantle and above it was an animated portrait of an ancient-looking wizard seated at a small desk and dressed in Charms archmage robes defined by their royal blue colour and the wind-like design on the fabric.

In front of the fireplace was a desk with neat a pile of parchment with one sole sheet placed beside it, ready to be written on. On the left of the sheet were three quills neatly placed in parallel to each other. The closest to the sheet was white, the next one blue, and the third one red. There were no visible inkwell and so were most likely self-inking.

Next to the fireplace, but not to close, was a tall bookshelf filled with ancient tomes and not so old journals, some looking to have been finished last week.

The only clear delimitations separating one side from the other were the 'door' and a diamond-paned window on the other side of the room.

Grandfather seated himself at his desk and conjured a chair for his great-grandson to sit onto. He vanished what was on his desk and started talking immediately after he did so.

"_Wealth,_" he said. Gold and silver coins appeared above the side of the desk, falling on it with a clear metallic sound. "_Knowledge,_" a thick book appeared, in a similar fashion to the coins, besides the metallic disks and landed on the desk with a 'thud'. It then opened itself and went through its pages rapidly before stopping on one talking about the Arithmantic signification of wand movements. "_Position,_" a sheet of parchment with the line of succession for the title of Russian Tsar appeared next to the book. "_Influence,_" this one was said with a tone of finality. Another sheet of parchment appeared, but this one with photos of people and locations linked by red threads.

"_All of those are assets to help make a wizard successful in life,_" said Grandfather Friedrich. "_But do you know what they all have in common?_"

Anthonie thought for a while. In his social sphere, wealth and position came hand in hand and were a question of birth. He looked at what was really a network diagram and saw a photo of the Vivaldi Bank in Beauclair and made the obvious connection with money. With money, you either inherited or made, and Anthonie would inherit, being noble.

Anthonie was pretty sure it had something to do with inheritance, and although knowledge wasn't inherited, it _was _passed down from a teacher to a student.

"_Is it being acquired by an outside source?_" attempted Anthonie.

"_Yes, Anthonie, good,_" replied Grandfather Friedrich. "_All of these assets are important to make a wizard successful and are accessible to all and come from the outside._

"_But there is one. One of the most crucial qualities that a wizard needs to assure his dominance in our world. Something that comes from within._"

"_What is it, Grandfather?_" asked Anthonie.

"_Power,_" he replied. "_Raw, magical power._

"_With a Position and Heritage, people will respect you. With Influence, people will know you. And with Wealth and Knowledge, people will look up to you. But with power, if they were to be on your wrong side, they will learn to fear you._

"_The populace is but a herd of sheep whose capabilities elevate only to follow, and they will follow to only two things: hope and fear. __Idiots will deal in absolutes. But the thing is, different people react better to different methods. Some will better react to fear while others will better react to hope. This is why you need to know how to wisely use the carrot, but also the stick. When to release the shepherd or the wolf._

"_One of the few things magical theorists agree upon is that magic acts like the human body: under strong enough emotions, it can do seemingly impossible things the person normally __couldn't do, but it can replicate these feats under calmer situations with long and applied training. This is why you hear of young children apparating through half the country without splinching or cases like that young girl who accidentally caused a forest fire in Poland. I myself had difficulty cutting roots when I first learned the Severing Charm, but now I can cut through the castle's walls with a single wave of my wand._"

True to his words, Grandfather Friedrich swiftly waved his wand at the wall beside the window and a clear cut going completely through the enforced stone wall appeared, letting a breeze of fresh air. Another gesture of his wand and the wall looked as if nothing had happened to it.

Grandfather Friedrich leaned a bit closer and looked more serious than he already did. "_You must always remember, Anthonie, that magic is all about desire and working to acquire the skill to wield it consciously. What you've just seen is the result of more than a century of practice, hard work and study, not the result of my ageing. Even little Catherine could consciously perform the three Unforgivables if she was in the right mindset and had enough practice in wielding the flux of magic._"

Anthonie was asked which spells he already learned and answered: "_The Colour-Changing Charm, how to do sparkles of different colours, the Wand-Lightning Charm and its counter, and I'm currently learning the Sunlight Charm._"

"_All light-related charms,_" observed Grandfather Friedrich. "_And I suppose that after this one you'll learn the Fire-Making Charm?_"

Anthonie simply nodded.

"_Well, I'm sorry to say that I'll have to break your cycle because I want to teach you a charm that can help you better identify your expertise with magic: The Levitation Charm._"

Grandfather Friedrich snapped his fingers and a blackboard appeared. With a point of his wand at the board, the incantation "_Wingardium Leviosa_" and the wand movement appeared on it. Underneath the incantation was the correct way of saying it "wing-GAR-dium levi-O-sa".

Anthonie pronounced the incantation multiple times before his great-grandfather thought it acceptable and then tried with his wand of Elder. His Grandmother Marysa had advised him to learn and practice spells with his wand of Elder first so it could familiarize itself with him faster. They feared his Beech wand might get jealous of the 'preferential' treatment the other wand received, but so far, nothing of the sort happened.

During the whole duration of their stay at Grimmen Castle, Anthonie had to practice casting the Levitation Charm two times a day, once before lunch and once before going to sleep. Over the weeks he was tasked to lift heavier objects as well as multiple ones at the same time.

Anthonie also finished learning the Sunlight Charm and the Fire-Making Charm. Following that, Anthonie was also tasked to perform flames of varying temperatures; from almost Coldfire, which was a different spell, to trying to melt gold ingots. At the end of the second week of April, he could levitate six heavy dictionaries at the same time without them being piled one over the other and he now was able to make the gold ingot start melting after an hour or so.

* * *

Even though purists said so, Muggles weren't idiots and would have found it very strange if they never saw the owners of the land they were living and working on and so it is, for this reason, the family went to the weekly mass in the village's church every Sunday and made a show of passing through the village's train station when they went and came from holidays and when they went to take to or fro their eldest son in his 'exclusive boarding school in Sweden'.

There was also the old tradition of inviting the tenants to lunch at the manor with the Marquis while talking about the administration and management of the estate's lands.

This stressful and not completely legal process was tightly reigned and led by Bélanger and the Marchioness.

Although the work made _in _the manor was simple, (replacing animated paintings to fixed ones where there was a chance the tenants could see them, locking most doors on the ground floor, keep the house-elves in the attics and the basements, dress the Muggle way, etc) the difficulty of the task was mostly linked to securing the _outside _of the ancestral home.

Although renovated in the seventeenth century, the manor still had gargoyles dating from the late Middle-Ages as well as more recent types of statues of beasts and humans. The problem is that some of them had the unfortunate habit of _moving_. And that wasn't counting the sculptures of sylvan elves, faes and witches and wizards dressed in clothes screaming '_magic_'. And so, they had to freeze them or relocate them for the day.

There were also the small faeries and the gnomes living in the front gardens. The pesky gnomes were easily dealt with, but the Lady of the land had to negotiate with the tiny cousins of the faes for them to move from the front to the back of the manor. Their presence was favoured because their magic helped the flowers and the soil, but they sparkled and so would be noticed by Muggles even though they were three inches tall, and so one wouldn't want to offend them.

There was also the question of the wards. Because the manor was a magical building, the law said they had to have Muggle repelling wards around it and the surrounding grounds. But because of their special situation, the manor had wards that would let the Muggles see the manor and every mundane-looking thing, but wouldn't see any unnatural movements, lights, creatures and beings or magic done on the other side of the wards as well as giving them a sense that they shouldn't advance further. But so the tenants could enter the manor, they had to reshape the wards and it was a strenuous, stressful and complicated process requiring professional help.

But every year, everything went according to plan and they were successful in not breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

* * *

The owl had been ordered to leave in the evening and it had been more than three hours since it'd crossed the Channel. The sun started showing itself over the horizon in the East when it saw the forest.

It had seen bigger ones, and nothing could be greener than its owner's estate, but it had an eerie feeling it had rarely sensed. It was nothing like the one at Hogwarts, it wasn't ominous or overly wild. This forest felt somewhat tamed and mysterious. Not what it would call it inviting, but it smelled of magic like its owner would do, if ancient.

The sea wasn't too far to the west, some dozens of miles, and he could see a colourful building on its edge.

Downhill from the forest was a village, two houses a bit off of it. One was just a tad bigger than most of the houses in the village while the other was visibly larger and statelier and more surrounded by brick walls save for the gate in front.

The village had a railway and a road leading to where he couldn't see. There was another road, this one smaller, leading uphill and to the owl's destination. The said destination was a palace close to the forest and surrounded by stately gardens and separated from the rest of the world by stone walls and hedges surrounding the miles-wide grounds.

The owl flew through the wards and felt them examine it and its letter and felt them letting it pass. It went over the principal building, though, and went to the tower off the South Wing. When it entered the tower, there were already two owls waiting. Higher than them, dozens of different kinds of birds were sleeping on perches and platforms.

By the time the sun was up, two other owls had arrived, these one carrying a leather pouch and a newspaper each. A young man dressed in a livery entered the tower and came to take what they were delivering. He put a bronze coin in the leather pouch of the fourth and fifth owls and gave them all treats. The first two owls flew up and went to sleep in some spot of the tower while the other three went back on their way.

The footman went back to the servant's courtyard and entered the basement. He went to M. Bélanger's pantry and gave him the three letters and two newspapers and went back to his morning chores.

Bélanger cast a Drying Charm on the two newspapers (those city-dwellers never took the time to do things properly) before looking at the letters to see to whom they were destined. The first one was addressed to his Lordship from Verséans, the second was to her Ladyship from her sister and the last one was for Master Anthonie from Lady Daphne Greengrass. He remembered the girl from last October when they were in London.

He levitated the lot and went to the kitchen to put her Ladyship's letter and papers on her breakfast platter. When her Ladyship's room's bell rang, Mademoiselle Cormier went up to attend to her while the platter followed her in the air.

Monsieur Lauzier went to attend his Lordship when his room's bell rang and that was his own call to go to the Breakfast Room, the two letters and the newspaper following behind him.

Lord Beaudelaire arrived in the Breakfast Room and served himself his breakfast from the service table before going to sit at the table. His Lordship was reading the papers when Master Anthonie entered the room.

He served the boy what he asked and then gave him his letter.

"_A letter arrived for you in the __aviary__ this morning, Maître Anthonie,_" he said. "_From the Lady Daphné Greengrass_."

"_Merci, Bélanger_," said the boy.

Anthonie took a bite of toasts and then a sip of apple juice before reading his letter. Daphne was inviting him to visit her next Saturday. She was inviting two other friends and wondered if he wanted to join them.

Although pleased, Anthonie was surprised. He never had any real friends. He was well acquainted with some older children from his parents' social circles and got along well with Fleur Delacours and her younger sister who lived not too far from here, but she and her sister were more friends with his siblings than him.

He was surprised Daphne would invite him. True, they had gotten along really well during the couple of evenings they saw each other in October, but he hadn't thought he would be invited to a 'play-date' by Daphne herself. They only had corresponded a bit since October and he thought it would be that. Didn't make friends took longer than that? He had thought so.

His father then asked him what the letter was about after he saw him finish reading it.

"_Daphné invited me to spend this Saturday afternoon at her house,_" Anthonie said. "_She also wrote that she invited two other friends but doesn't say who. Can I go?_"

"_I see no reasons why you couldn't,_" responded Lord Beaudelaire, smiling. "_I will inform your mother and we'll arrange your transport with the Greengrasses._"

The week passed by as usual until Saturday. He still did his magical exercises as Grandfather Friedrich had asked him and his lessons continued as they always did. It was early June and even though school would end at the end of the month, his lessons would still continue. The only time he didn't have lessons was when they were at Grimmen Castle or on holiday.

In one of his history lessons, Professor Demers talked to him for a while before they started about how communism was slowly falling in Eastern Europe and the countries closer to the West like Hungary and East Germany would probably become democratic in the next year or two. Little did he know it would happen even more quickly than he had thought.

Saturday came and it was time for Anthonie to go. He just had lunch and his Portkey would depart any minute now. He went into the Entrance Hall and said goodbye to his parents and sister before taking his Portkey – an empty flowerpot – and instantly disappearing.

The Portkey was mildly uncomfortable and felt like being tightened all over his body for the fraction of a moment, but for a well-travelled person like him, it was but a detail. Anthonie had taken Portkeys since the age of five every time his family went into another country and before that he'd taken the _Magical Express_. The train went around Magical Europe and, apparently, the Mediterranean.

Anthonie had reappeared on a gravel pathway in front of a dark iron gate between tall green hedges. The gates opened and on the other side was a carriage pulled by an odd creature he had only seen in books.

Distinctly hybrid, it had the body, hoofed back legs and the tail of a horse, but its head was one of an eagle and its front paws had sharp and metallic-like talons. Its feather-covered front transitioned organically into fur as it went to it back. It was a Hippogriff.

A man was seated in front of the carriage, reins in hands. He put down the reins and went down on the ground. He opened one of the carriage's door and uncurled small stairs to help him enter.

"Sir," said the man, bowing his head. "I'm to take ye to teh manor."

Anthonie silently nodded in acknowledgement, having barely understood the man with a strange accent. He walked to the carriage and the man held out his right arm for him to use it like a bannister. He took the man's arm and entered the carriage.

The inside of the carriage was bigger than what the outside would make one think was possible – big enough for around six or eight people instead of four – and was incredibly comfortable. Anthonie suspected Cushioning Charms as was common practice.

British wizarding estates were generally smaller than those on the continent because, for the most part, they were inhabited by witches and wizards only and as such were correspondent to their population.

Concealment and minor protective wards were put around the Lord or Lady's whole estate and farmlands while more powerful and ancient protective wards would be put around the manor's surrounding lands and in some rare cases, even the manor itself had protective charms and spells into the very walls. Although those were more common practice during the tenth to the thirteenth century.

In comparison, estates on the continent often had Muggle extensions to their magical-only cores or sometimes even had only a very large Muggle estate with some others magical inhabiting it. In most European countries, the wizarding and Muggles heads of states had better communication between them than in the British Isles and so collaborating between the two governments was more regular. Therefore, having a better implementation of the Statute of Secrecy while still being hidden in plain sight in the Muggle world while British and Irish and other mages had to rely more on folded time and space (literally).

Anthonie looked out from a window to see the landscape of the Greengrasses' estate. Fourth largest in wizarding Britain and sixth in the British Isles as a whole. This estate was located somewhere in Northern Yorkshire.

Anthonie had never seen grass or leaves so green in his entire life and thought possibly only the Emerald Forest in Bavaria could possibly rival this. There were all kinds of trees around, but the most present seemed to be this strange kind of oak with emerald green foliage and a bluish silver-grey coloured trunk.

Anthonie had never heard or read about such a kind of trees, the closest being a rumour that trees with golden leaves and silvery trunks grew back in Aéren Elh and its moon, Eldaria, the native worlds of sylvan elves and faes, respectively.

But those fabled elvish trees were also described as gigantic in their size, housing entire _cities_ and palaces where they were close enough, while those here were a bit under average height for what seemed like oak, larger as well.

Pumpkin fields were numerous, as well as wheat fields. Pumpkin was very popular in the Northern wizarding Anglo-Saxon world and although it was also appreciated in France, no witch or wizard would be found having close to a fifth of their land producing the orange cucurbit.

Far in the distance, Anthonie could see what looked like a big greenhouse with a dome-like ceiling and between the pumpkin and wheat fields other kinds of vegetables and some rare fruit bushes and more common apple trees. Livestock was also present. Cows, sheep, goats, pheasants, turkeys and other animals were bred. Hippogriffs and Pegasi could be seen in stables and paddocks and a bit of the forest seemed to be surrounded by a simple fence.

Houses and barns could also be seen and soon they crossed another iron gate, this one statelier than the first and held by tall stone walls. The family crest on the gates, separating itself in two as they opened.

Anthonie heard the gates closing behind them as the carriage continued on its way, this time on the private land of the Greengrass family. Gone were the farmlands and instead appeared stately English gardens and trees could be seen on the edges of the land. Pines were more common here and were just as green as anything else seemed to be in this small corner of England, although a shade darker.

The gardens seemed less lively than those at home, though. He also couldn't see a twinkle or a sparkle flashing trough the flower petals of the bushes' foliage. There were also fewer variants of flowers here than back at home. But this wasn't surprising, though.

The British Isles had fewer flowers one would see in aristocratic gardens native to the land than on the continent due to its climate and human magic could only do so much to help plants to flourish in a climate different from its own. That was why they had faeries in the gardens of the Palais des Beaussiers, they helped exotic plants survive and flourish by affecting the temperature they received and compensated for the possible lack or excess of sunlight with their magic as well as influencing the soil to help the plants.

This made the lack of faeries even more evident, but Anthonie could still appreciate the simple and elegant beauty of the gardens. The English gardens were also more natural and 'savage'-like than the meticulous and orderly French variant.

The carriage turned a bit and Anthonie could see the manor by the other window. The path separated in two and reunited in front of the main Greengrass residence so as to let people exit the carriage and be right in front of the manor's entrance.

Greengrass Manor looked more like a castle that has been redecorated to look more baroque than when it was created in the Middle Ages. Anthonie couldn't stop thinking about how it oddly looked like the Tower of London.

Although larger, the manor seemed to be built like a large rectangle with its front and back longer than its sides. The manor had four towers of different heights and shapes in its four corners and it was what largely made the resemblance between the Tower of London and the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass.

The metal roofs on the towers and the similar stonework on the outside walls were what finally convinced Anthonie of the similarity between the two buildings. No fortification could be found around the edifice, though.

The manor had four storeys above the ground sans-tower and had an ancient beauty to it. Anthonie didn't know if he should be relieved or disappointed that the stone covering the walls wasn't green, but grey.

The carriage finally stopped and Anthonie heard the coachman jump on the ground and he came to open the door, uncurling the steps for him. The man held out his arm again and Anthonie took it to support himself as he got on the ground.

"If ye follow me, sir," said the man. "I'll escort ye to Lady Daphne and 'er friends."

The man was terribly kind, and his posture, although attentive, was relaxed. But it wasn't him that made Anthonie stressful if anything his calm demeanour helped calm himself a bit. No, it wasn't that, his slightly… slurred (?) accent was unfamiliar but understandable. Anthonie was stressed because it was the first time someone had invited him because of who he was and not _what_ he was.

Daphne had invited him for an afternoon with other friends. It wasn't some power-hungry parent that tried to stitch him with one of their children or tried to get their child out of their hair for a while by putting them with someone else to bother. Or in the case of the Delacours girls, children who preferred his siblings.

It was also the first time Anthonie was in a situation where he would have to speak another language than French or German without an adult family member supervising. Had Anthonie needed to speak Italian instead of English he wouldn't have been so worried because he was more fluent in it. It was also his third language and not his sixth.

The man guided Anthonie through the manor. Walking in a long and high-ceilinged corridor before entering into a drawing room and going outside the edifice by the French windows.

They then proceeded to walk towards an impressively tall and large tree in the middle of a paved circle. Under the shadow of its foliage was a smallish round table covered by a white tablecloth. A China teapot, teacups over saucers and some small cakes and other nibbles, as well as the mandatory silverware, was present on the table.

Around the table were four cushioned chairs proportioned to the table and on three of them was seated a girl each around the ages of eight or nine.

One of them was taller than the others and had long, silvery blonde hair held by a black headband. Her eyes were as green as everything seemed to be in this estate and had the refined looks of someone accustomed to high luxury and privilege.

The second tallest also had long hair, but these were dirty blonde with a hint of red in it and held in a simple and long ponytail. Her eyes were a common brown and looked more jovial than the first girl. She also looked accustomed to luxury and privilege like all old-money children did but looked less aloof than her taller friend.

Finally, the smallest – by quite a margin – seemed to be slightly out of place in this aristocratic and girly à la Versailles setting. She had long ebony black hair with strands of ashen-grey hair. They were held in a loose bun high on her head and multiple strands of hair were loose, giving her an informal and relaxed look. Her eyes were dark brown and had a twinkle of mischief in them. Her robes were simpler and of lesser quality than those worn by the other two girls as well as having a less traditional style. She also seemed to be jovial if her smile were anything to go by. Her hands seemed to have done manual and outside work compared to the flawlessly manicured hands of her friends.

The first two Anthonie recognized as Daphne Greengrass and Sybil Fawley, who he had met multiple times during the previous month of October. But the last one he didn't know.

Daphne greeted him with familiarity after the man announced his presence to the girls. She then presented Anthonie to the dark-haired girl named Tracey Davis and Sybil and Anthonie greeted each other.

Daphne's smile was more evident and the warmth with which he was greeted dissipated a part of his stress. As the man left them to their privacy, the teapot poured him tea and he added two sugar cubes to it.

Daphne opened back the conversation by asking him how his transport from his home to here had gone and it slowly started a conversation on the trips they went that needed them to transport via Portkey.

Sybil's family particularly liked to go on holiday in the Swiss Alps to do numerous winter sports. While she and her mother would sled or ice skate or do some shopping in the Swiss magical district, her father and older brother would go hunt this or that creature or just observing the local fauna. More than often they'd come back with nothing. Magical creatures often preferred extreme climate over large distances and the Alps in Western Europe were strangely devoid of such creatures, or those found were too dangerous for a hunt amateur and a prepubescent boy to fight them.

Sybil related them a particularly comic story of when her father and brother went hunting one day to come back to the family's chalet completely drenched into Snow Worm vomit. Which was apparently surprisingly foul-smelling for half-melted snow.

Daphne had a look that she already had heard the story, but the three of them were a good audience and awed, oohed, laughed, and cringed at all the right places while their orator related them her second-hand story.

Anthonie was now narrating to the girls about the many times he had been mistaken as a little girl when attending social events throughout Europe. He had discovered the hard way that long hair had been very, _very _rare between the boys of his generation. A higher voice than average and narrow shoulders also apparently helped to make a little boy look like a little girl and that was without considering the robes and shoes.

In the winter of 1987, Anthonie and his family had been attending a ball organized in honour of the engagement of the Crown Prince of wizarding Russia. It was incredibly hot in the ballroom; the imperial family was said to abhor cold and as such, the Warming Charms on their winter palace were quite strong. Not _the_ Winter Palace, of course, this one was situated somewhere in Southern Russia and well hidden from the Muggle world by several layers of enchantments, spells, wards, and other occult methods of concealment kept under secrecy.

Anyway, it was quite hot, and as Anthonie was wearing winter dress robes, he wasn't spared from the tropical heat. Not having a wand, yet, Anthonie had to resort to a fan to cool himself a bit. Even in the wizarding world, fans were considered a more feminine accessory, and this was coupled with small high-heeled slippers, long hair and allegedly more dress-like robes than what was beginning to be fashionable. To Anthonie's embarrassment, this had persuaded a young Russian boy who didn't understand French nor German that he was in the presence of a foreign heiress and not, in fact, another member of the male gender.

Fortunately, the Russian boy was too young to do anything other than saying sweet words in his native language. After some embarrassing minutes not understanding what was being said to him, the (metaphorical) cavalry came to save Anthonie in the form of his own mother fetching him.

She said something in Russian to the boy which left him red as well as an expression of shock appearing on his face and she left with Anthonie afterwards. Later in the evening, Anthonie had asked his mother what she had said to the boy and she simply replied that she told the boy she wanted to present her son to someone. Emphasis on the word 'son'.

The girls started laughing and Anthonie soon joined them. Unlike many, Anthonie wasn't embarrassed or angered for being confused for a girl. And why should he? If anything, he took it as a compliment. It was called the fairer sex, after all. Being embarrassed, flustered or anything else along those lines was losing control, anyway, and grandmother Clémence had told him red didn't suit him.

They continued talking about trips and holidays, but slowly the conversation changed into a simple exchange of funny anecdotes. Tracey recounting her latest pranks targeting her annoying cousins and Daphne and Sybil telling stories about people embarrassing themselves at events they attended to.

Anthonie didn't have as many stories to recount as the girls had, but he was eager to have some funny remark or sarcastic comment to add more to the conversation.

They went on and on and they finally finished their tea. They got up and continued talking while walking around the gardens and changing the subject to gossip. Anthonie couldn't open the subject often since he didn't know much gossip himself. It seemed he had a more protected childhood and had been more isolated from the world than was normal from someone of his station. But that didn't stop the boy from still telling the girls about a few nasty boys and girls he had the unfortunate chance to meet.

Two boys the girls kept calling Crabbe and Goyle were said to be the thickest and most idiotic children one could possibly imagine. Their only redeeming quality seemed to be they at least knew when to keep their mouth shut… most of the time at least.

They also mentioned two girls named Pansy Parkinson and Elizabeth Runcorn.

"Parkinson is _the_ most annoying person you will ever meet if you are unfortunate enough to," said Sybil. "Her family has been recently trying to elevate their status by marrying her to Draco Malfoy, some blond ponce of our age who thinks the world owes him everything."

"'E sounds like Édouard," said Anthonie, looking at his nails.

"Who's Édouard?" asked Tracey, sensing some additional gossip to spread.

"Édouard Sivert, 'eir and onlee child to ze Comte de LaTour," Anthonie started. "Ze title eez younger zan my moder and yet, like all ze ones h'of 'is kind, 'e thinks everyone will like 'im because 'is fader 'as received some title because of 'is services to ze kingdom.

"Why do all ze _nouveaux riches_ children 'ave to be so spoiled? _Sans offense_, Tracey."

"None taken!" Tracey cheerfully replied. "Having personally suffered spoiled brats for nine years now I get what you mean."

Tracey's family had become part of the top ten richest families of wizarding Great Britain in the 19th century by investing, and after some time creating their own shipping companies. It had started small, with enchanted objects and some potions ingredients to ship to or from no further than Vienna, but it then expanded across Europe and the Atlantic Canadian Provinces.

They started shipping more kinds of potions ingredients and magical plants and fungi as well as enchanted objects and even going as far as transporting small magical creatures like crups, puffskeins, doxies and pixies and such. Today it dealt with any kind of merchandise: magical objects, potions, plants and fungi, magical creatures and… other things, as long as they received payment.

By current wizarding standards, that made the Davis family _nouveau riche_ even though more than a century had passed since then. As such, Tracey's cousins, being brats, perfectly fitted in the category of spoiled brats, section _nouveaux riches_. Funnily enough, two of her four cousins were older by at least five years and were from cadet branches of the family, meaning Tracey was the heir to her grandfather's fortune. The other two were closer to Tracey's age, but younger and surprisingly mean for a seven and six years old.

Tracey had briefly mentioned they looked down on her because her mother was a Muggle-born, making her a half-blood when they were themselves 'pure-bloods'. As much as it was true for someone who's family only married inside one's country, anyway.

"Back to our subject," said Daphne. "Elizabeth Runcorn will often hang out with Pansy and her sycophants, but she also likes her solitude."

"_I_ personally think she's sociopath," interrupted Tracey. "Always looking at everyone with that look of hers, like she was examining everyone."

"Her family is not what you'd call respectable," continued Daphne, as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Her uncle is in law enforcement, but Madam Bones and Auror Scrimgeour stop him from going higher than a senior Hit-Wizard due to his… ethical views."

"A _puriste_, I h'assume?" said Anthonie.

"To say the least," Daphne responded with a diplomatic tone.

"Although I don't think he just has a membership card of the Traditionalist Party," commented Tracey. "If you catch my drift."

"You have parties in England?" asked Anthonie, surprised.

"Not really, they're more like factions," answered Sybil. "Everyone in the Wizengamot pretty much only thinks for themselves first, their ideals second, and everyone else never.

"Elections are also quite rare since the Minister's mandate has no effective length limits and his cabinet is independent of the Geongragamot. As long as the population and the Geongragamot or Wizengamot are happy or the Minister himself doesn't quit we don't have elections. It also happened for the Head of the DMLE to simply be thrust into the position of Minister."

"But wouldn't zat cause bad leadership?" asked Anthonie, a small frown showing. "Ze 'Ead of… Law Enforcement eezn't necessarily ze best to govern a nation."

"It mostly only happens in times of war, though," said Sybil. "I would know, it was the current Head of the DMLE at the time who took the post after my great-grandfather had to step down as Minister. Fortunately for my family, the people had other things to worry about to remember that particular incident." Sybil looked a bit embarrassed at mentioning that.

"But we don't have to talk about that," Daphne intervened. "We were not there, so it didn't affect us."

And with that, they changed the subject. They instead talked about the gardens themselves as well as the estate.

The Greengrass estate was probably one of the oldest modern wizarding estates of the British Isles. The land had been appropriated by Tilmund called 'the Gardener' before even Godric Gryffindor's birth and had been a powerful Druid. The Gardener had raised the hedge surrounding the dozens of miles it did today from the soil itself on his own and had planted everything inside its perimeter, grass included.

Many a witch and wizard came to seek refuge from the hostile Muggles in what he liked to call his Garden and settled their family there, many still living inside of it, if only bearing a different surname.

With the years passing, many enchantments and wards were added to the Garden as the world became more and more hostile towards wizardkind. Multiple Druidic Gatherings were held in the Garden and with everyone passing the piece of land gained in magical significance and in prestige.

At the honourable age of two-hundred and fourteen years old, Tilmund the Gardener died and where his body was laid for his eternal rest now stood proudly a tall and large tree in the middle of a paved circle.

Over the centuries, the Garden had escaped the wrath and ruin of wars both magic or not and stood out as the greenest and most lively piece of land on the island. It was on the eve of the formation of the Wizards' Council that the House of the Gardener's heir was named Greengrass, in honour to his greatest creation.

Aelfwald Greengrass had been one of the original members of the Wizards' Council, and like all the others, had built a home for himself and his descendants that would properly befit the family of a member of the legislative and executive assembly of wizarding England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

Tall, enchanted stone walls had been built around the private Councilman's lands to better protect his person and his family, but also to differentiate them from their serfs. The fortified manor-like castle had been built from the simple house of The Gardener and the stately gardens that came after had been centred around Tilmund's tree. The manor had been redecorated throughout the centuries to follow wizarding trends and expanded multiple times. The fourth storey had only been added after the manor had gained its current rectangular shape in 1885 and the outside walls' stonework had been redone during the fourteenth century.

The children decided to go inside after they visited one of the greenhouses and Daphne led them to the yellow drawing-room, which was mainly used when Daphne had friends home. They started talking fashion and they went through the fashion section of the last edition of _Witch Weekly_, some feminine magazine, and gave their criticism to every outfit shown in the section.

Unfortunately, this section was quite short, as were the others, because the gossip column took over half of the magazine's pages. The girls told him all the other magazines, rising at the laughable number of two, and the newspaper, as in the only one made in the British Isles, also had a gossip section, if different from the witch-targeted magazine and much smaller.

The man from earlier in the day came back after knocking on the door when half passed eighteen o'clock was approaching. He accompanied the children outside just in front of the front doors of the manor and Anthonie said goodbye to the girls and thanked Daphne for inviting him.

The man gave Anthonie back his Portkey from earlier in the day, and when half passed eighteen o'clock rang, he disappeared and felt as if his corset tightened too much and then loosened when he could see where he was.

As it was, he stood in the parlour of his family's city house in Verséans. The housekeeper, Mme Plamondon, was there waiting for him. She greeted him and wasted no time lighting a fire for him in the fireplace with a gesture from her wand and immediately put Floo powder. The flames changed from hot red-orange to a warm green.

Mme Plamondon called out-loud his destination, « _Palais__ des Beaussiers,_ » and Anthonie walked into the fireplace. Another mildly uncomfortable sensation later and he was in the fireplace of the main family residence's Entrance Hall. He stepped out and was greeted by the sight of his valet who greeted him.

The gong had already rung and so Anthonie and his valet walked quickly to his bedroom for him to change for dinner. Dinner went as usual, but instead of joining his mother, sister, and grandmother to the blue Drawing-Room, he went to bed early. Changed for the night, teeth brushed, hair attached, and tucked in bed; Anthonie read one chapter from _L'Aventure Innatendue d'Adabert Petitpas before blowing_ out the candle on his bedside table and closing his bed's curtains he had left open.

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**A.N.: Please leave a review.**


	7. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**A.N.: Forgot to say because I changed my first Author's Note but elves and dwarves in the classic fantasy genre exist in this Alternate Universe (AU) along house-elves and goblins. Anthonie and his friends also embark the Hogwarts Express in this chapter, among other things. I hope you like the chapter.**

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**Disclaimer: I, Sapphire Diadem, do not own Harry Potter™. It is owned by J.K. Rowling, but you already know that.**

_May 12, 1990_

Today was Anthonie's birthday. His family and friends had all reunited in the family palace, but it was a normal birthday celebration for a child of the House of Beaudelaire. Anthonie was given many gifts and there had been a small feast for dinner. Nothing too out of the ordinary or extravagant.

Johann was, unfortunately, not present as he was at school. But he had been able to wish him a happy birthday through his enchanted mirror. Durmstrang was too far for owls to reach, and its climate too harsh for them to stay there. Scandinavian wizards used other kinds of birds native to the land like white ravens, which the Palais des Beaussiers' Aviary didn't have. And so, an enchanted mirror it was.

This celebration would probably blend in with his other birthday parties when he got older, with the small distinction of being the first birthday he spent with friends of his own, not children of his father or mother's friends or the more agreeable children he met at large social events. But the tenth anniversary of one's birth in the Bousquet family wasn't as much about gifts, decorations or food – well maybe for the servants in regards to the latter – as it was about a decision that would shape the rest of his life.

Anthonie had even witnessed his older brother make this decision three years earlier, and now it was his time. His mother wouldn't send him anywhere outside of Europe even to go to the French and Native American school in French Canada even though they had distant cousins living in the magical district of Québec city. Although it probably was for the best since he couldn't even for the love of all that is sacred pronounce the school's name.

Eastern Europe was also a no from the get-go. Anthonie and his family didn't have anything against Greece or Transylvania, but Anthonie didn't fancy the language barrier. Koldovstoretz also had a worse reputation than Durmstrang, as much as the Russian wizarding folk was normal for their world and accepting of Muggle-borns. They were even considered by some polls the most pro-Muggle-borns country in Europe, if in a very Grindelwald-like way.

Durmstrang was also a no because while Johann learned Danish and Swedish, Anthonie had learned Spanish and Elda, the language elves living in Europe spoke. The Catholic Institute of Magic in Rome was a possibility. As much as they considered it a joke option, meaning attendance had no obstacle or difficulty linked to it but not considered serious, the institute preached (and practised) good values and their quality and emphasis on teaching Charms, Healing, and about the Muggle world was respected. They _were_ famous for being the school with the best teaching on the subject of everything Muggle-related in the Eastern Hemisphere.

But his family's situation made it so he would have no profound lack of knowledge in this area. AntmutigerPönix's focus on magical creatures and natural magic wasn't very appealing to Anthonie. That a large part of the school was underground didn't help either. He wasn't thinking about the dungeons and basements though. The mainly German-speaking school was partly inside the mountains behind the castle part of the building.

Anthonie didn't personally like the idea of spending most of seven years like a miner, surrounded by rugged and unpolished stone. He liked, on the other hand, the idea of doing the logic choice of attending the prestigious and beautiful Beauxbâtons Academy.

This option had the notable advantage of being known terrain to Anthonie. The Royal family organized each year a New Year ball in the palace and his family (himself, his siblings, parents, and grandmother) was invited each year. He could also brag about how he already went in the otherwise out-of-bounds ballroom.

But Anthonie had friends now, real friends. He didn't need to go to Beauxbâtons to make friends anymore. He hadn't made any friend at any of the New Year balls, why would going there as a regular student make any difference? He had friends and _they_ would attend another school, one more than a thousand miles away from where he would be.

And making contacts while still being children was for the bourgeois and petty lords. The Marquis of Beaudelaire, the Duke of Lorraine, and the Duke of Normandy were the only ones to have a hereditary seat in the Chiefconseil among the peers of the kingdom. The forty other seats reserved for the peers were elected amongst each other or appointed. But he wouldn't be the one to wear the crown of the marquessate, anyway, that would be Johann.

Anthonie wouldn't mind playing politics for his House if it meant helping his family, but he didn't want to be the main piece of the board. He didn't feel like he was meant to. He _wasn't_ meant to. God, in their ineffable plan, decided this burden was meant for Johann's shoulders to bear, and for his to assist his older brother in his task while Catherine helped the head of another House to give an heir and assisting and counselling her husband in his task to lead his own House.

Before going to bed that night, Anthonie wrote a letter to his great-great-uncle to look back at that school bylaw. Maybe Hogwarts was said to only accept students from the British Isles, but it wasn't a small detail like that would stop Anthonie de Bousquet from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire to attend it.

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry accepted students from all over the British Isles. From the Hebrides and the Scottish Highlands to the Channel Islands and Dover passing by Ireland and the Isle of Man.

That the child was born in the British Isles or immigrated later didn't matter as long as the child did accidental magic on the territory. It was only a matter of the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance both accepting them.

But when the Founders wrote the school's rules, they had put a bylaw that stated any magical children who were related to a student of Hogwarts, current or graduated, currently living in the British Isles had the possibility of attending the school. This has been written with the idea in mind of magical children having to escape their country or having otherwise no other schooling options in the Mystic Arts. Said child and their relatives would have to assure a case of accidental magic is performed within the boundaries of the British Isles as well as being fluent in any language native to the British Isles. As it was, Anthonie's great-great-uncle perfectly fitted this description. Even better, Sylvester Oldham was also one of the school's governors. The most senior one, even. And the bit about accidental magic was quickly resolved with three drops of Unction of Paranoias and a house-elf set to spook Anthonie while he visited his great-great-uncle.

It took a week, but after that, Anthonie was finally in the Hogwarts registry and was set to get his acceptance letter and list of supplies on the twelfth of May in the year nineteen hundred and ninety-nine of the Gregorian Calendar. Anthonie's parents had accepted his decision and no incident like three years prior happened this time.

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Changes in the boy's routine were subtle, but still present. It began at first with his history lessons focusing on British history instead of the broader European theatre he had been taught before. Music became practice-only sessions under the watchful eyes of Mme Mona, and he would occasionally play on the piano and the harpsichord with Catherine for pieces that required two players. Meanwhile, his Art teacher had him sketch outfits of any kind, as long as it was up to his standards.

One day, Anthonie had felt particularly creative and had drawn a particularly weird outfit. It consisted of a tunic over just-under-the-knees-length puffy breeches and accompanied with the usual stockings and high-heeled slippers. A sash was worn at the waist, and over the shoulders was an elbow-length cape attached by a scarab-shaped brooch. Anthonie had drawn the hair in a low ponytail and as a final touch put a small tricorne. The whole on a largely faceless, child-proportioned model and with lighting and shading. His favourite set of dress robes had been one he'd drawn himself and was his proudest accomplishment if you asked him.

On the thirtieth of August, Anthonie's mathematics, magical theory, and language instructors had all packed and left the palace. In addition to this, his riding and ballroom dance lessons were put to an end for now.

Anthonie now only saw Frau Schneider in his ballet practices and even she said him goodbye the day before. Anthonie was leaving for England on the second of September, so he could see off his big brother to school. He would stay and live at his great great-uncle's house for the next twelve months save for the Winter and Spring holidays in preparation for the next year during which he would spend the most of the next ten months in an only English-speaking school.

With him, his valet, Professeur Demers, and Mme Beauchamp would also come to England. His governess would continue inculcating him the rules of society and Professeur Demers would teach him wizarding British history and some history of the House of Oldham.

His luggage had been sent in advance as well as a room had been cleared out at Oldham House for his lessons. The day came and he said goodbye to his family, his grandmother had come up to the palace for dinner to see him off.

Prince Rupert's room, his usual bedroom when they visited, had been already prepared when he arrived by the Floo in the evening. His clothes put in the wardrobe and drawers, the fire crackling in the hearth, and the windows' curtains pulled closed. They even had put up a small, ornate desk in front of one of the windows so he could see the square's park while working.

Anthonie's first week in London had been laxer than what was usual at home. Only having his lessons with Professeur Demers and Mme Beauchamp, he spent the rest of his days switching activities between sketching, reading, or playing some music on one of his instruments in the music room.

He could also be sometimes be found on a chaise longue in the backyard of the house under the shadow of the large oak. Anthonie didn't particularly like being under the sun – freckles appeared all over his face and hands when he was exposed to it for too long – but he _did_ appreciate the warmth it gave off between late April and mid-September. And so, the long-haired boy had found the perfect solution in the most cliched trick. Unfortunately, the temperature in the shade seemed to be a couple of degrees lower than what he'd like most days and so Anthonie stayed inside most of the time.

On the second week, Uncle Sylvester had found a speech tutor for Anthonie. Mr Livingstone helped Anthonie ameliorate his pronunciation of English words three times a week. The hardest sounds to pronounce correctly were by far the 'th's and when to or not pronounce an 'h'. The 'th' sound sounded sometimes like a d and sometimes like a strange f if not like a z. Anthonie also seemed to put random h's here and there, most of the time in front of vowels. This made the distinction between words like angry and hungry complicated.

To help Anthonie's English to ameliorate quicker, Professeur Demers had started to say his lectures in English. The Professor's pronunciation was quite good if Anthonie were to say so himself, with barely a trace of a French accent. But Anthonie would have appreciated knowing before one of his lectures that Edinburgh was pronounced 'brah' at the end and not 'burg' or 'bourg' as he had thought.

Months in his speech tutoring, Anthonie now knew when he _had_ to pronounce an h. But he still needed practice for when he _shouldn't _pronounce an h. The words 'I', 'of', and 'off' came to mind. He still pronounced his I's like double e's most of the time and some of his s's sounded like z's. He now at least didn't pronounce most of his th's like z's and instead more like aspired c's or f's. Finally, he still had the habit of pronouncing words exactly written or almost as he did in French.

Anthonie also got a new tutor for mathematics he would see two times a week, his tutor had spent their first two meetings showing the different mathematical terms in English and also had him practice his fractions and divisions.

Frau Schneider had sent him a letter listing him the exercises he should do for ballet, how long, and how many times a week he should do them. And so, four times a week, Anthonie could be found in his multi-function room between thirteen and fourteen o'clock doing stretches and practice moves.

Anthonie and Uncle Sylvester ate lamb for dinner on Samhain and the latter gave to the former a small box of Honeyduke's chocolate, but nothing else out of the ordinary happened during the third harvesting's day. Or Mabon, for that matter. Residing in the city, Uncle Sylvester didn't see the point of celebrating rural festivities.

Anthonie's correspondence with Daphne, Sybil, and Tracey grew more regular during his time in England. They even went together to see a play of Morgana's War at the Diagonal Theatre in Diagon Alley at the beginning of November.

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Uncle Sylvester would sometimes bring Anthonie on his walks in Muggle London so the boy could get some fresh air outside of his scarce time in the house's courtyard. Today was the fifteenth of May, the boy had received his acceptance letter and supplies list last Sunday during his birthday party. They would do most of the boy's school shopping today as it was his day off other than Sunday. Wednesday was also the day of the week with the least people calling sick at the Ministry and so that made fewer people able to go shop at Diagon Alley.

One of the pluses of having a greatly government-centred working population was that you could predict more easily the movements of the larger population. The Victorian Wizard knew well the civil servants' habitudes, they'd call sick on Mondays or Fridays, or even on Tuesdays or Thursdays if there was a public holiday. They'd cram the Floo network between half-past six to eight o'clock in the morning and half-past sixteen to eighteen o'clock in the evening. Funny how Muggles and Wizardkind could be similar in strange ways despite the crucial difference between their two worlds.

After a quick trip into the marble white goblin-run bank, Anthonie and his great-great-uncle went to buy him a cauldron at Potage's shop just before going to Flourish and Blotts for the textbooks. Uncle Sylvester bought the boy every textbook for the seven core classes up to the fourth year except for Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic. The first one because he'd probably have a new teacher every year for the subject, and the second because the ghost's course had only one textbook for the seven years.

He'd try to get the ghost to be fired, so many times that he'd lost count. He even tried to involve the shade in a scandal, but nothing worked. As much as he appreciated Dumbledore for what he has done in his life, he didn't understand why he let the ghost continue teaching. No, he did know why, some sort of ghost activist group complained that Binns – or any other ghost for that matter – shouldn't be fired under the pretence that he was a ghost.

But that was only a complaint, Dumbledore wasn't _obliged _to listen to them. Just like Imperial Russia isn't obliged to listen to the protests against taking Muggle-born children from their Muggle parents once they performed accidental magic or the Durmstrang board to finally admit Muggle-born as students. And ghosts were _dead_. The only right the dead had was bodily autonomy. Nothing else. They couldn't vote, they couldn't be paid, they could receive post-mortem honours, but their memories weren't entitled to respect.

It seemed that, apparently, no _student _had made a formal complaint against Binns and as such Dumbledore wouldn't fire him because he pitied the ghost. Lucius Malfoy and those like-minded were, of course, happy to have the youth's education in history to be boring propaganda against the goblins, trolls, giants, and merpeople. They must also have liked to not have to pay at least two teachers for the subject as well. As it was, only Anastasia, Augusta, Elphias, and himself were for the sacking of Binns amongst the Governors.

The small pouch Anthonie had brought, a silver-coloured purse made of fine fabric with a dragon-hide lining and charmed with undetectable Expansion Charms and Featherweight Charms, was filled with boy's textbooks. The accessory, though practical and popular in France, looked quite feminine to a British pair of eyes. But then again, so did most of the fashion in wizarding France, or perhaps that was a side-effect of him frequenting the Muggle world too often due to his job.

He took the boy's cauldron and they continued their shopping. Next, they went to Scribbulus Writing Instruments to buy Anthonie enough parchment for the school year and some more for his lessons back at Oldham House. Multiple inkwells and two Dictaquills were also bought.

Anthonie would be able to give his whole attention to what his teachers would say while his quill would automatically take notes of what was said. It was also a way of finishing homework more quickly. For what the Dictaquill couldn't write such as diagrams or when he wrote letters and gave his personal touch to the penmanship, Anthonie could use his own manual, self-inking quills.

They went on to buy Anthonie's telescope, brass scales, dragon-hide gloves, and crystal phials. Uncle Sylvester at that point called Obby, his house-elf, to bring back home Anthonie's writing supplies-filled cauldron and everything else except for the textbooks.

Their final stop was Twilfitt and Tattings for Anthonie's uniform. One of the tailors took the boy's measures and Sylvester asked him for multiple sets of robes for summer and winter and one set of the Muggle variant of the uniform in case of extracurricular outings. A white dress shirt, black and white striped tie, black cardigan and trousers, and black leather muggle shoes.

The inner gown of the robes and the sash were currently grey, and the crest on the left-hand side of the black outer robes was the school's crest with the four houses represented, but the tailor told him they would magically change once he was sorted into his house. For his hat, Anthonie opted for a small cylindrical hat with very small white floral embroidery at its base contrasting on the dark fabric.

They bought a winter cloak and also asked for a cape to be made for after the Sorting Ceremony so they could have the house's crest on them along with a scarf. Warming Charms had also been put on his winter cloak and robes since winter in the Scottish Highlands was very unforgiving and Anthonie was absolutely not accustomed to these temperatures.

Hogwarts had no policy for shoes and as such, Anthonie decided to wear his usual high-heeled slippers or his knee-high dragon-hide boots. Shopping finished and lunch eaten, they went back to Oldham House by Side-Along Apparition.

* * *

_September 1, 1991_

The summer had come to an end and Anthonie was on Platform 9¾ now. His whole family, even Johann, was there to see him off. Being a group of ten adults and three children, they had all apparated there. Each adult taking a child or luggage with them.

They had arrived earlier so they could see off both boys who were going to school, starting with Anthonie and then using a Portkey to Sweden for Johann. Anthonie said goodbye to his family, hugging them and kissing them on both cheeks, and promised to write them after his sorting and each week after that before taking his multi-compartment and featherlight trunk and embarked the crimson-red, steam-engined train. His barn owl, Ilderia, let out and sent in advance to Hogwarts so she wouldn't have to be stuck in a cage for hours.

He found himself an empty compartment and put his trunk on the racks above before saying a collective goodbye at his family and waving at them from the window before seeing them all disappear with the Portkey. He put his trunk on the rack and seated himself. Anthonie examined the compartment he was inside. It was large, large enough for eight people to sit comfortably, four on each side. Just under the windowsill, a platform stuck out of the wall, a legless wooden table. The window's curtains were currently opened, and he remarked the compartment's door could be locked as well as having curtains.

The long-haired boy looked on the platform and saw it was beginning to be packed. Anthonie was grateful his family decided to see him off early. He'd say no one seemed to stick out of the crowd, but that wouldn't be the right way to describe it. Everyone was sticking out in their own way, making it hard to focus on only one group of people.

After some more looking at the platform, Anthonie heard the door of his compartment open. He looked behind him to see two girls. The taller had long silvery blonde hair held back by a black headband and strikingly green eyes. The second one, shorter, had long, dirty blonde hair with a trace of red held in a simple ponytail.

They both wore elegant robes made of fine silk with some sparse but complementary jewellery. They also seemingly impossibly held a large wooden trunk in one hand each. A cat in a carrier was in the other hand of the brown-eyed girl.

"Daphné! Sybil!" exclaimed Anthonie. "How good eet eez to see you."

The long-haired boy helped the girls put away their luggage and greeted both of them as usual, with a kiss on both cheeks.

"How was your summer?" asked Anthonie.

The girls seated in front of him and recounted what they did during the summer. Daphne and her family had gone to Spain for a week in July. They had been invited to a semi-professional duelling tournament somewhere in Andalusia and her father had participated in it, going all the way to the quarterfinals. The wizard who had defeated Lady Greengrass' consort had been using all sorts of conjurations and animations to finally defeat him by pulling vines out of the arid and almost lifeless ground. The vines had got under his shield by digging in the ground and had him immobilized within a minute.

The wizard had gotten all over to the finals but had been defeated by a half-elven witch who got around the arena on a flat boulder she had charmed to fly. She had finally destroyed his shield by crashing her boulder into him just after jumping off of it and disarming him. The wizard was found unconscious, bruised, and with a quickly repaired broken leg, but otherwise in perfect shape. His shield had taken the brunt of the impact but ultimately had failed under the weight of the boulder.

Sybil and her mother had attended a fashion show and her whole family went to an Opera in Vienna but had otherwise done nothing out of the ordinary. Her father, on the other hand, attended to a rabbit race in the Netherlands and went to see the Quidditch match of Wallonia against Wales with her brother.

The French-speaking Dutch team had been defeated 600 to 610 in favour of the Welsh, but the Walloons were the ones who continued in the tournament to go face off the Rhenish team due to their higher overall score in the tournament. If the Snitch was still awarding one-hundred and fifty points, maybe the Welsh would have won. But with racing broom always getting faster and faster with each new model, the game had become too much Seeker-centric. That was why the rules were changed after the Quidditch World Cup of 1909 when the winning team's Seeker caught the Snitch under twenty minutes. From that year on the Golden Snitch now valued fifty points only so as to not make the Seekers too important.

Sybil also remarked how better Anthonie's pronunciation had gotten since the last time they had met for her birthday in March. The three friends continued to talk when they heard knocking on the door and then opening.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else seems to be full or annoyingly loud."

The question had been said in a posh and bossy tone. The voice was maybe the closest Anthonie had ever heard to the cliché Southern English accent, and he had heard his great-great-uncle. At the door was a girl of around their age dressed in the Muggle variant of Hogwarts' uniform under the unfastened black robe of the uniform. The girl had brown eyes, large front teeth and had incredibly bushy brown hair reaching her mid-back.

"And you are?" asked Anthonie.

"I'm Hermione Granger," said the girl.

"From the Dagworth-Granger family?" inquired Daphne.

But instead of saying a simple no and tell she was actually a Muggle-born, she said all in one breath and incredibly fast how no one in her family had magic and that she's discovered it only when a teacher visited their house last September and how much it was a surprise but how delighted she was. Still, in the same breath, she told the three pure-bloods how she had memorized all of their textbooks verbatim, and that she had tried some magic and it had worked.

"Nice to meet you –," Anthonie had intervened so as to prevent another hurricane of speech when the girl stopped to catch her breath, but he couldn't think of how to pronounce her name. Luckily, he was saved from the embarrassment by Sybil.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione," said Sybil. "I'm Sybil Fawley, and those two are Daphne Greengrass and Anthonie de Bousquet."

"Take a seat," said Anthonie, patting the place beside him.

The bushy-haired girl smiled at that and rolled her trunk inside the compartment.

"Oh, h'allow me." Anthonie took the girl's oddly cauldron-shaped large bag that weighed like one filled by bricks and a long box he assumed contained her telescope and put them on the racks before taking her trunk… only for it to stay on the floor. Anthonie pulled the trunk again, but it stubbornly stayed on the floor.

"What – eez – een – there?" asked Anthonie, each word punctuated by an unsuccessful pull.

"My clothes and books? Why?" said Hermione.

"Because I wanted to be sure I wasn't tryeeng to leeft golden eengots," answered Anthonie.

A minute later they tried all of them together and they were able to put it on a rack with great difficulty.

"You better not drop it on you when we arrive, because I'm not helping to lift it up again," said Daphne when they were seated again.

Her two friends chuckled a bit while the bushy-haired girl laughed a bit awkwardly.

"I don't know eef I ever weell see you again after today," said Anthonie. "But I'm buyeeng you a trunk weet a Featherweight Charm on eet for Yule anyway."

A short silence followed the chuckles that ensued this statement before they began to talk again. It didn't take long that Tracey arrived, shortly followed by the sound of the train's whistle and the engine starting, with a fortunately charmed trunk that was easily lifted by the residing gentleman of the compartment.

"Tracey," said Sybil to the girl seated on her left. "This is Hermione Granger – Muggle-born – she also starts her first year at Hogwarts.

"Hermione, Tracey Davis – infamous gossip with a penchant on pranking brats."

"Pleasure," said Tracey, slouching in contrast to the other four children seated with their back straight.

"Likewise," said Hermione.

"If you're ever bullied because of who your parents are, come to me," said Tracey.

"Thank you?" Hermione had a curious look.

"Typical," said Daphne. "They didn't tell her," she added, addressing her friends.

"Told me what?" asked Hermione, looking at the other three.

"You know how een the Muggle world, some people discriminate others because of their skeen colour? –," Hermione nodded. "Well, some people een our world discriminate others because they don't have, or their parents don't have magic."

"In short," Daphne began, her tone neutral. "A long time ago, someone decided children with magic whose parents didn't have magic shouldn't have access to the magical world and be taught how to control their powers. Fast forward to today, some witches and wizards still think this and people born from long lines of only magic users are called pure-bloods, like us –," she designated herself, Sybil and Anthonie, "– those born of two Muggles are called Muggle-borns, like you. And all the rest – every other possible magic-users born of any other parentage you can think of – are called half-bloods, like Tracey. Tracey's father is a pure-blood, but her mother is a Muggle-born."

"None of this actually mean anything, in reality," said Sybil. "Pure-bloods aren't better at magic than the rest. There are lazy people, and there are great people. Dumbledore is said to be the greatest wizard of this century and he's a half-blood."

"So, all of you know about magic since you're born?" asked Hermione.

"Eighty-five per cent of the magical population knows about magic since birth, give or take," said Tracey, looking at her nails. "Do we really have to talk about that? I already have to suffer hearing my cousins reading out loud the _Pure-Blood Directory_ back at home."

"But that means I'll be behind eighty-five per cent of our year mates!" panicked Hermione. "I-I'll fail a-and everyone will judge me, and I'll have to go back in the Muggle world, and I will know the others speak the truth when they say I'm different than them and –,"

"Hermi-on!" said Anthonie, taking the bushy-haired girl by her shoulders. "Hermi-on, you are not behind anyone."

"But –,"

"There eez no 'but'," said Anthonie. "Yes, maybe some already know how to fly on a broom, but there is a class for that and the teacher weell consider everyone as a beginner, they won't expect from you to know how to fly it.

"Maybe some weell already know some spells, but the teachers weell steell consider every student as eef they don't know any yet. And have you not told us that you practised some spells? You have to stay calm. Hogwarts eez there to teach you about magic and the world eet hides. And I am certain most of our classmates haven't even opened their textbooks once, and eef eet eez true you memorized all of them then you shouldn't worree."

Hermione calmed down a bit and silence returned for a bit before they talked again. Anthonie asked which spells Hermione knew and so they all told, one after the other, which spells they already knew.

Hermione knew the Colour-Changing Charm, the Wand-Lighting Charm, the Mending Charm, the Unlocking Charm, the Full Body-Bind Curse, and she had gotten her hands at simple Transfigurations, but it took so long that she didn't go through with them.

The other four also knew _Colovaria_ and _Lumos_, but only Tracey knew _Alohomora_ and only Daphne had learnt how to cast _Petrificus Totalus_. Anthonie and Daphne knew how to erase words and individual letters written in ink from a leaf of parchment and vanishing spilt ink while not erasing anything written and Daphne and Sybil had been thought the Scouring Charm proper.

The four raised in the wizarding world also had the popular Stinging Hex, _Vespa_, in their arsenal and knew how to cast sparks of different colours in the sky to send messages.

Tracey's go-to spell was the Tickling Jinx, _Titillando_, and was able to cast the Tongue-Tying Spell three times out of five. For his part, Anthonie was proficient in casting the Levitation Charm, if not enough to lift Hermione's Trunk of Death, the Knockback Jinx, _Everte Statum_ (or at least the Continental version), and the Fire-Making Charm.

Tracey has once tried the aforementioned Charm while trying to light on fire the hair of one of her younger cousins, but the only thing that got out of her wand was some warm sparks. But hey, no fire without sparks, as they say.

Sybil had learnt from her brother the Shoe-Sticking Jinx, _Colloshoo_, and the Pimple Hex, _Furnunculus_.

Finally, Daphne's father taught her both the British and Continental versions of the Knockback Jinx (British: _Flipendo_). She also tried her hands at Transfiguration, with her mother helping her a bit.

After that, Hermione was being taught by the four other children how to cast the Stinging Jinx and, with the window open, how to cast sparks to send a signal.

At half-past twelve, a witch pushing a trolley full of sweets passed and they all bought between one to four sweets each. Anthonie had himself only bought two chocolate frogs. He put them in his purse and got to his trunk to take his lunch and the others did similarly, Hermione taking hers from her backpack.

Anthonie's lunch, packed in a small mahogany box bigger in the inside, consisted of little triangular turkey sandwiches without the crust, a cucumber salad, a bottle of apple juice accompanied with a glass, a small pot of sweet pickles, some cheese, and for dessert, Piroulines. The chocolate-filled rolled waffle biscuits were one of the Frenchman's favourite dessert. He could never thank enough the collective genius of the Belgian people in concerns to desserts.

Shortly after they all began to eat, someone knocked on their compartment door before opening it. In the corridor stood a round-faced boy dressed simple day robes with dirty blond hair and had tears on his face.

"I-I'm sorry," said the round-faced boy through silent sobs. "But ha-have you s-seen a toad around? I-I've lost mine."

Anthonie couldn't stop a part of his mind thinking how toads were so fifty years ago, but that didn't prevent him or the others to look around their compartment. Unfortunately, the toad wasn't there.

"I'll help you find your toad," said Anthonie, closing his lunch box.

Anthonie had been called kind and polite multiple times in his life. He wasn't especially serving, but to be honest, the very sight of the crying boy was sad and pitying. If one were to attribute a human version to the expression 'beaten dog', the round-faced boy's current expression would be it.

Both boys got out of the compartment, Anthonie closing the door behind him, and stopped walking when Anthonie saw a compartment full of upperclassmen clad in black and yellow uniforms. Jackpot.

The long-haired boy knocked on the door and didn't wait before opening it.

"So sorry to bother you." He really wasn't. "But eez any of you proficient weeth the Summoning Charm? –," he was going to say the boy with him had lost his toad but had completely forgotten to ask him what his name was.

Anthonie turned to the round-faced boy, smiling. "I'm so sorry, I didn't ask your name."

"Neville Longbottom," the boy answered.

"Yes –," Anthonie turned back to the upperclassmen. "As I was saying, Neville, here, lost his toad and I wondered if any of you were proficient with the Summoning Charm so as to save us from the chore that would be searching for it one compartment at a time."

"What's the toad's name?" asked one of the older boys, getting his wand. Anthonie saw he had a yellow badge with a 'P' on it.

"Trevor," said Neville.

"_Accio Trevor the toad_."

Nothing seemed to happen for a while, but sure enough, a toad soared through the corridor and into the prefect's expecting hand.

"There you go," said the prefect while giving Neville his toad, smiling. "One toad, one."

Anthonie and Neville both thanked the prefect and left. On their way back to Anthonie's compartment, Neville thanked him profusely before asking him what his name was.

"Anthonie de Bousquet," said Anthonie.

"Thank you, Anthonie."

"No need to thank me," said Anthonie. "Just putting Trevor een his cage so he can't escape weell be enough."

After a short walk in comfortable silence, they finally arrived at the long-haired blond's compartment.

"See you in class, Neville," said Anthonie.

"Yeah, see you in class."

Anthonie entered his compartment and went to eat his lunch.

"What are you talking about?" inquired Anthonie after swallowing his mouthful of sandwich.

"We're talking about Hogwarts' houses," said Hermione.

"Hermione here was singing to us Gryffindor's praises before you came back from your toad hunt," added Tracey, smirking.

"Yes, apparently having housed – pun intended – the great Albus Dumbledore makes one the best house to be in," said Daphne while painting her nails of a baby blue colour. "No matter the personality of the common Gryffindor."

"How could Gryffindors be bad to be around?" said Hermione. "They're brave, courageous, and chivalrous."

"Do you value your study time, Granger?" asked Daphne.

Anthonie realized this was the first time he heard Daphne says Hermione's name, albeit only her surname.

"Yes," the brunette answered.

"And I imagine, like any normal person, you prefer working in silence?" Hermione nodded. "Well, I'd tell you good luck for finding that in your common room because the only places in the whole castle you'd have a harder time finding peace and quiet would be in the Great Hall and the Quidditch Pitch during a match."

"Even the Music Room when the Frog Choral practices is more pleasant a place to study," said Sybil.

"How would you know?" asked Hermione.

"My brother did it," was Sybil's answer.

"You should go to Ravenclaw," said Tracey. "They're welcoming enough, they value knowledge, and their common room is reputed for being the quietest of the four as well as having their own library."

"The blue on your robes would also make you less of a target compared to the attention the red would bring on you if you were sorted into Gryffindor," said Daphne.

"How so?" said Hermione.

"Well, it's no secret most blood purists are sorted into Slytherin, and Slytherin also has a rivalry against Gryffindor," explained Daphne. "That'd make you a target, doubly. On the other hand, Ravenclaw, which is the least unliked house, would put you more on the side-lines of purist Slytherins.

"You being in Ravenclaw would also mean you want to know about our world, not force your world views and the Muggle ways you adopted from your upbringing on us."

"I guess that makes sense," conceded Hermione.

They continued for a while to talk about Hogwarts' houses. Daphne was determined to be sorted into Slytherin as it was expected from her by her parents. Sybil was more open. She'd like to be in the same house as her cousin and best friend, but she wouldn't mind being sorted into Ravenclaw, her father's old house, or Hufflepuff, in which both her older brother and cousin on her father's side were sorted.

Anthonie didn't mind as long as it wasn't Hufflepuff or Gryffindor (could you imagine, him dressed in red or yellow?), and Tracey stated she'd know where she would be sorted in the evening.

* * *

The scenery outside the window was slowly changing from the flat and organized farmlands to a more wild and rugged portrait of nature. The five to-be first years were telling each other stories and eating the sweets they had bought from the trolley earlier.

Anthonie's first Chocolate Frog card had been Tihiriel, a Great Elven Sorceress and first Duchess of Lafonde. She had been the one to create the passage from her home-world to the underground tunnels of the valley hidden in the Massif Central.

"And ze weenner for ze catégorie 'Second Chocolate Frog' goes to…" Anthonie said in an overly formal and exaggerated French accent. Waiting some time for dramatic effect. "Vivian, the Lady of the Lake. Ah, I already have four of them."

The boy took the sweet and ate it before it could escape.

"Can I get it?" asked Tracey. "I never seem to get anyone from Merlin's time." Anthonie gave it to her and put his other card in his purse.

Hermione had asked him over the journey where he was from, noticing his accent. The French boy told her about being born raised in France and the multi-national situation of his family. She'd also ask him how he could attend Hogwarts, quoting _Hogwarts: A History_, and he answered her about how there is a bylaw in the school's rules which granted him permission to attend due to his father's great-uncle being British, having attended Hogwarts, and, most importantly, still alive.

"Your father's great-uncle is still alive?" asked Hermione. "But wouldn't that mean he's –,"

"More than a centuree old?" suggested Anthonie. "He's one-hundred and thirty-six, to be exact."

"But how is it possible?" said Hermione, bewildered.

"_Magic_," the four other children told in unison.

Not long after that, the group heard knocking on their door and it sliding open afterwards. In the entrance stood three boys, the one in the middle had slicked-back, short pale blond hair, pale skin, pointed facial traits, dressed in fine black robes and shorter than his two companions.

Said companions were heavy sets, and strangely looked like bodyguards with them being a step behind the blond and arms crossed intimidatingly. They had mean expressions, but their eyes revealed little wisdom or intelligence. Potential threats in a physical engagement, but otherwise unarmed men in a battle of wits.

"Lady Daphne, Lady Sybil… Miss Davis," greeted the blond newcomer while stepping inside their compartment, but not sitting. His tone had been somewhat… pleasant, but turned into a drawl when he acknowledged Tracey's presence a bit reluctantly before going back to pleasant when he looked back at the two pure-blood girls. "Passed a good summer?"

The cousins' expressions weren't relaxed and jovial anymore. They were neutral and attentive. Anthonie was used to this attitude from Daphne, but not so much from Sybil. He was quite surprised from seeing Tracey straightening her back and sitting correctly.

"I appreciated the trip to Spain," said Daphne, looking at her nails as if examining if she had painted them adequately.

"I had a great lot of fun," answered Sybil before adding: "Thank you for asking, Mr Malfoy."

"May I ask you to present your friends?" inquired the boy named Draco, not bothering to wait for Tracey to answer his previous question. "Their faces seem to be unknown to me."

"Draco, I present to you Monsieur Anthonie de Bousquet, scion to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Beaudelaire and the Noble House of Grimmen and Miss Hermione Granger," Daphne presented. "Anthonie, Hermione, this is Draco Malfoy, heir apparent to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy."

"_Enchanté_," greeted Anthonie, getting up and shaking Draco's hand if a bit loosely. The other blond nodding his head.

The height difference between them was visible. Draco must have been the third or second shortest person in their compartment, with Tracey as a distant first and potentially followed by Sybil. Hermione, though not overly tall, had been born a year prior to them all except Daphne and had started her growth spurt. Anthonie himself was above average in height and it was only accentuated by his slippers which contributed to the illusion by being hidden by his robes.

Hermione followed his example and got up to shake Malfoy's and the boy replicated before asking, "Granger, you say? Are you possibly related to Henry Dagworth-Granger?"

"No, she isn't," replied Daphne. "Or at least not closely. Hermione's parents are Muggles."

A faint expression of what seemed like a mix of disgust and shock showed on Malfoy's face and he proceeded to wipe his hand on his robes. Since they had departed from the station, Hermione had fastened her outer robe over her Muggle uniform and had put her grey sash at her waist. This, along with the girl's name, had made him think she was one of them. Or at least not one of _them._

"I didn't know you stooped so low as to hang out with people of improper upbringing, Greengrass," sneered Malfoy.

"I was taught to judge someone on their views, not on their pedigree, Mr Malfoy."

"Neutral as always," responded Malfoy. "Taking from your mother, I see."

"Are you maybe insinuating something is wrong with my mother?" Daphne's tone had gotten sharp, but her face still showed no emotions.

"No, of course not. Just making an observation." The boy's tone seemed to become a bit oily and smug. "I'm sure you will be able to fill in the role of Head of House in the future –," Malfoy side-glanced discreetly at both Hermione and Tracey. " – with some additional teaching."

The corners on Daphne's lips turned upwards just a bit. "Likewise, Mr Malfoy," she, now, was the one who looked victorious. "It was a pleasure talking to you as always, Mr Malfoy, but some of us need to changes into our uniforms, and you would do well to do the same."

Malfoy looked slightly taken aback at his words and insinuations being returned to him just like that before replying with a somewhat strained voice, "Of course, Lady Daphne, we'll leave you to just that."

Malfoy told Anthonie that he would soon sort the good sort from the bad one in the Isles and scoffed at Hermione before he snapped his finger and his two followers both side-stepped to let him out and followed him. One of them closing the door.

"Of course we _had _to fall on _the_ worst purist of our year while still on the train," said Tracey, now relaxing with the three boys gone.

"Who were the two boys weet heem?" asked Anthonie.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, we talked to you about them," said Daphne. "Their two families are ferociously loyal to House Malfoy."

Daphne, Sybil, and Tracey got to change into their school robes as they saw the sun was approaching the horizon. They looked to be somewhere into the Scottish Lowlands with the rough terrain but still with the important presence of cultivated land.

The three girls closed both the window and the door's curtains as the compartment's lamps had turned on and locked the door behind Anthonie and Hermione who got out to give them some privacy.

They were still in the corridor when Hermione talked about his height.

"Sorry if I'm rude, but you look strangely tall for someone who hasn't started puberty."

"Pardon?" said Anthonie.

"It's nothing wrong, but you seem to be taller than the average eleven-year-old boy," the bushy-haired girl explained.

"Oh, that," Anthonie said with a tone of understanding. "That would be because I'm not really dis tall."

Anthonie picked his robes' skirt part and elevated it to show his high-heeled baby blue slippers and their two inches-tall heels.

"You wear heels?" said Hermione, surprised.

"Oh yes, they are very fashionable in France," the boy explained.

"But I thought they went out of fashion sometime during the 18th century," said Hermione.

"They deed?" This time it was the boy's turn to be shocked. "But everyone at the Court wears them, even the King."

Hermione said nothing for a minute, trying to figure out what she just heard, before adding: "Well… I like your shoes."

"Thank you."

The girls inside opened the door and the two entered back into the compartment.

"Do you think you could teach me the Unlocking Charm?"

* * *

Anthonie was currently trying to unlock the door with the charm Hermione and Tracey had shown him, but he was so far unsuccessful. Daphne seemed to have a bit less difficulty than him and Sybil had cast it successfully.

He didn't understand. Charms usually came naturally to him! He had learnt the Levitation Charm and was able to cast it reliably in three hours and half that time for the Fire-Making Charm. And he'd been eight, for Nostradamus' sake!

The wand movement was simple enough, it was a simple keyhole shape with a flick at the end. Tracey must have been doing it ten times sloppier than him and it worked every time for her.

It wasn't his pronunciation either since the incantation was the same in all the Western European major languages. Even the Slovenes, Bohemians, Slovaks, and Croatians used it. And he made sure to pronounce, articulate, and put emphasis on the right syllables.

Daphne huffed in frustration after another failed try. "Tell me again how you got that spell to work, Trace."

"I told you three times already," said the short girl. "I'd unlocked so many doors with my hairpins to pick and hide or prank some of my cousins' stuff that when I tried the spell I just _knew_ what to feel for it to unlock. Then I guess my magic simply translated that to every other lock… don't know if I could open that big vault like that guy did in the papers, though."

"Yes, yes, continue to shout to whoever leestens about your kleptomaniac tendencies," Anthonie drawled, not really angry at the girl, but at himself for not being able to cast that thrice-accursed charm. "What do you expect from us? Try to lock-peeck Hermi-on's trunk until we know what to 'feel' for the charm to work."

Anthonie hadn't meant anything by it when he said Hermione's trunk, but it was a logic choice. After all, it was the only one to not be enchanted in their compartment, as they'd, unfortunately, experienced at the beginning of the journey. And the compartment door didn't have a conventional lock with a keyhole in it, but a switch you had to turn, instead.

"I think what Tracey means is that if you want for the charm to work, you have to find a way to focus your will to make the charm do your bidding. Be it visualisation, feeling, or something else," explained Hermione.

"But how can I veesualise the lock to unlock when I don't see eenside of eet," Anthonie unlocked and locked the door again manually for emphasis.

"But didn't you ever used a key to unlock a door? Or don't you feel something familiar and similar each time you turned the handle of a door?" the Muggle-born girl asked. "Why don't you think about that when trying the charm?"

"Hermi-on, I've barelee opened a door een my life, let alone unlocked one," said the boy. "I _don't_ _know_ how it feels to unlock a door."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but no words got out has it looked she was weirded out by what the blond boy said. Her mouth closed and opened up again like the first time. She was speechless.

Tracey snickered. "I think you broke Hermione."

"_How_?" was the only word the aforementioned girl was able to get out, gobsmacked as she thought of all the times she had opened or closed a door and the reality of the statement hit her like a truck at full speed.

"The servants, obviously," answered the boy as if it was the most obvious thing. "We don't pay them to seet around."

"Why don't you try to lock-pick Hermione's trunk, then?" asked Sybil, her tone supportive. "It's worth giving it a shot."

Tracey took something from her pocket. "Here take them." They were hairpins, similar to the one she wore to hold her loose strands of hair. "They're unbreakable, so you can't screw the lock by breaking them."

Tracey showed Anthonie how to lock-pick Hermione's trunk and guided him through his first couple of tries after he safely put the heavy object on the floor by using the Levitation Charm. The charm more slowed-down the trunk's fall than anything, but Anthonie took it as a win that there wasn't a rectangular-shaped hole in the compartment's floor.

After getting the hangout of it, Anthonie repeated the act more slowly so as to feel the inside of the lock. He closed his eyes to try and visualise it.

_Click_

He had unlocked it. He got up, and took his Elder wood and Phoenix feather wand and tried the spell again.

"_Alohomora!_"

_Click_

It worked. The spell had worked. It had taken him one hour and forty minutes to get it to work, but he got it. He locked the door and tried again.

_Click_

Still working. He did this ten times before he let Daphne continue practising. One hour later, the silvery-blonde had finally successfully unlocked their compartment's door using magic.

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It was fully dark outside, and Anthonie's pocket watch indicated it was a bit less than half passed twenty o'clock, Greenwich time. They had exited forested lands some minutes ago when a disembodied voice said they would arrive in five minutes and to let their luggage inside their compartment. They currently were speeding through hills as the train slowed down. He could see some lights in the distance which he knew were from Hogsmeade village.

The five children got out of their compartment in direction for the closest exit and waited for the train to completely stop at the station. Once on the platform, the children's lives and fates would be in their own hands from then on.

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**A.N.: I hope you liked the chapter and please leave a review. If you have any commentary/critic about my writing it would be really useful and I would be happy to answer any questions if there is any confusion about my story.**


	8. Welcome to Hogwarts!

**A.N.: A good and big chapter here. Hogwarts now officially starts with the Sorting Ceremony and I show some additional staff members to those we already know because Hogwarts couldn't have a single teacher for most of its classes (not the core ones, at least). The sorting itself may not be the most original, but I never pretended it would. Short, ****recognisable passages (dialogues) are quoted from _the Philosopher's Stone_ in this chapter and are written in italics while long passages in italics are flashbacks. The dialogue that is underlined is what Anthonie hear the Sorting Hat say in his mind. I hope you like this chapter.**

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**Disclaimer: Repeat after me: "I do not own Harry Potter." **

Anthonie and his friends followed the other students to the bridge that let them pass safely above the railways to the other side of the platform. They were crossing the bridge when they heard a strongly-accented and powerful voice call, "_Firs'-years! All firs'-years come to me!_" The voice belonged to one giant of a man. Holding a lamp, he looked to be tall like two men and large like three. He wore a long, brown coat that seemed to have an endless amount of pockets sewn into it over simple clothes and black boots. Bushy black hair and beard hiding most of his face directly or by their shadow in the lamp's small light completed the portrait.

Hermione was gobsmacked at the sight of the man, and the three other girls of their group looked surprised, but Anthonie was barely fazed at all. The French boy had been in the presence of Beauxbâtons Academy's Headmistress multiple times, and she was _at least_ two feet taller than this man. If Madame Maxime was towering for eleven-year-olds, she was doubly so for six-year-olds, and her high heels didn't help at all.

But Anthonie decided to keep the giant man's heritage to himself. If Madame Maxime felt the need to keep her half-giant status a secret, albeit a spread one, when she lived in France where witches and wizards were more accepting towards part non-humans than this man would be even wiser to do so while in Britain.

Their quintet walked to the man, where other children of their age were already assembled around. The man called some more, and other first-years came. The man finally called at them all to follow him and started walking on a steep and narrow path.

They walked for a while on the dark path before the giant man addressed them again. "_Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec._

"_Jus' round this bend here_."

They had taken a right, and they arrived on a paved part of a lake's shore. What Anthonie saw next was definitely part of his top three most beautiful sights.

On the other shore of the lake stood proudly over a mountain one of the biggest castles the French boy had ever seen and would probably see in his entire life. The moonlight let the children distinguish the castle and it's dozens of towers and turrets from the starry night sky while the lit windows gave them a better look of the castle itself.

The edifice seemed to have two distinct sections: the West Wing and the East Wing. The West Wing was dominated by the biggest tower, both in height and wideness, and a cathedral-like room with Gothic-style tall windows letting considerable amounts of light out. The East Wing, on the other hand, had both a tower that looked to be an observatory and a towering structure that looked to have a clock on its top as its most predominant features.

Anthonie could only agree with the others at their sounds of awe. Their gigantic guide instructed them to not be more than four by boats. They'd seem to have hit a snag until Tracey generously 'took one for the team', as they say.

"Hey, Lav, save me a place." The short black-haired girl approached a girl with curly dirty-blonde hair held back by a pink bow and two brown-skinned and dark-haired twin girls. "See you guys on the other side."

The remaining four seated themselves in their own boat and stayed silent during the ride to the other side. Their guide had his own boat for himself, which was larger than the students' ones to begin with, and after assuring himself everyone was seated in a boat he took a pink umbrella from one of his coat's inside pocket and tapped his boat before pointing forward and calling: "_FORWARD!_"

And with that, their little fleet began floating across the lake as if by nothing. They approached the castle more and more and the cliff it was lodged on slowly began towering over them. They bent their heads when their guide instructed them to, dodging some ivy as they entered a long and dark tunnel that led them to an underground harbour.

They all got out of their boats and the quintet reunited as they got up the stairs to the surface. From there they climbed up another stone staircase – this one not carved into the very rock of the mountain – which let them to a courtyard.

They stopped at an enormous set of heavy wooden doors and their gigantic guide loudly knocked on them three times. The doors opened, and on the other side stood a tall, greying black-haired woman with square glasses dressed in emerald green velvet robes and a pointed hat with a large brim.

Anthonie couldn't believe it. Although the woman's face only started showing wrinkles and couldn't have been older than her mid-fifties, the boy couldn't believe how much this woman looked like a younger version of his grandmother.

Black instead of silver hair, a younger face, and brown eyes instead of blue, the woman clad in green velvet had the same face as the Dowager Marchioness of Beaudelaire. From the pursed lips, high cheekbones, stern look, and hair held tight but fashionably.

"_The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall,_" the giant man said.

"_Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here,_" the professor replied in a small, posh Scottish accent.

The doors opened wide by themselves, and the first-years all entered the large Entrance Hall.

The Entrance Hall was lit by torches, and facing their group was a large marble staircase going up. One entrance to a spiral staircase going down was located on each side of the main one's base. Strangely enough, the light emitted by the one on the left seemed to be colder in colour than the one on the right.

The to-be sorted students followed the stern-looking professor as they passed another gigantic set of wooden doors – this one ornate – on their right from which they could hear the sound of hundreds of voices speaking. They were led into an antechamber off the hall where they grouped in, all standing close due to the relatively small size of the room.

Professor McGonagall then officially greeted them before briefly informing them on the Sorting Ceremony and the house point system. She announced them the Sorting Ceremony would be in a few minutes and advised them to try to 'smarten up', her gaze lingering on some students before leaving them for the Great Hall, taking a different door than the one they entered by.

Anthonie subconsciously patted his robes at the professor's words before taking an ornate, golden hand-held mirror from his purse. Something he noticed Daphne and Sybil echoed. Judging his hair to be fine and seeing no spot on his face, Anthonie's mind calmed as he judged his appearance as satisfactory and put his mirror back in his magically-expended purse.

"That makes me think," said Hermione. "Do any of you know how we get sorted?"

"No, I was goeeng to ask," Anthonie replied before looking at the silvery-blonde girl standing next to him. "Daphné?"

"No, my parents didn't tell me when I asked them. Did Matthew tell you, Sybil?"

The blonde's cousin shook her head. "No, he just told me I'd see when I was there and I'd do great." She thought for a while before speaking again. "Do you think it's some kind of test?"

"I would think so," said Daphne. "But what kind of test? We're supposed to come here to learn, not to display our knowledge."

Tracey nodded at that. "And it can't be too long, too. Most of us didn't eat anything in the last…" she took a second to count, "nine hours or so but sweets from the trolley. They can't make us eat dinner at ten."

They anxiously waited in silence for Professor McGonagall to come back, each thinking about what kind of test they would make the first-years do to be sorted. The minutes passed slowly as the students waited in the small room. The air was heavy with stress, excitement, and anxiety as most waited in silence and some muttered to each other. That's when the screaming began.

"_AAAAHHHH!_" Anthonie was surprised to find out he was one of those who had screamed, along with his friends except for Tracey who simply jumped one foot in the air, literally, and Daphne who almost fell due to the strength of her flinch.

The boy put a hand in front in his mouth in embarrassment. His scream might have been one of the most high-pitched. Anthonie had screamed, but that was because of the screams themselves. The stress had risen up to his head and had made him panicky. The boy looked around to see what had caused the screams.

Nothing seemed different until he looked higher up to find multiple pearly-white ghosts floating in the air whilst speaking to each other. They'd probably scared some anxious Muggle-borns by going through the wall. Anthonie wasn't happy about having been scared half to death because of nothing, although the one covered in silvery stains that awfully looked like blood and with chains hanging from him looked more like a corpse than what ghosts usually looked like.

They were talking about someone named Peeves before one of them, a man dressed in a pourpoint with a ruffed collar and awfully short puffy breeches that could only come from the fifteenth century, noticed they weren't alone.

"_I say, what are you doing here?_"

Complete and utter silence met the ghost's question.

The one dressed like a friar and with a cord around his neck determined correctly they were first-years and told them all he wished to see them in Hufflepuff – his old house – before him and the other ghosts went away through another wall as Professor McGonagall came back.

"_Form a line and follow me_," she instructed. "They're ready for you."

The first-years formed a two-file line and followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall by the same door she had left. Hogwarts' Great Hall oddly felt like Notre-Dame de Paris, in a way of speaking. It was ancient and majestic and immense. Just like the famous cathedral, you could almost sense how much the Great Hall had seen so many things over the centuries since it had been built. A sort of sentience that only came to 'sacred' places or objects.

The Hall's ceiling was hidden above the illusion that replicated the starry night sky outside, and closer to the floor floated hundreds of candles high above the five long wooden tables. Students were seated at four of the tables while the school's faculty was seated on a table standing on a dais, facing the others. In its centre, dressed in regal red and black robes with a matching brimless pointed hat, Albus Dumbledore (easily recognised by his long silvery-white hair and beard) was seated on a golden throne-like chair.

Laid on the tables were golden plates, goblets, and silverware (how ironic) that were glittering in the torches and floating candles' light.

It all looked fantastical, but there was one sobering sight in the Great Hall, closer to the main entrance. More than a third of the seats were empty. Anthonie had known about the British wizarding civil war, everybody did, and Anthonie had been told about it in details both by Professeur Demers and Uncle Sylvester. But seeing it in real life, seeing how so many died or, indeed, were never born, to begin with, was something entirely different than reading about it in a book.

His own great-grandmother, Victoria de Bousquet née Oldham, has been murdered by Augustus Rookwood, the ex-Unspeakable. But that was one year before he had even been born. Anthonie had never personally experienced the consequences of war, yet he was seeing how one was still being felt by a nation ten years after the fact. Hermione seemed to have noticed the same thing as him, but the other girls in their group seemed oblivious to it. Or were they just that accustomed to it?

Professor McGonagall placed a wooden stool in front of them, on which she placed an ancient, patched, and dirty wide-brimmed pointed hat. And brown. Of course, it had to be brown, Anthonie thought. You have a whole colour spectrum with dozens of shades for every colour, and they pick brown. Dirty brown, he might add.

The hat seemed to open something akin to a mouth at his brim and started to sing of all things. No, singing was a strong word for this brown crime against fashion and every basic rule of sanitation, it was more like he recited a poem. A poem about the four houses and their founders.

_You're safe in my hands (though I have none)_

That seemed quite crude in the department of self-awareness.

Students and teachers alike applauded as the hat finished its 'song'. Anthonie thought the expression 'burst into applause' seemed perfect to describe the situation. The hat bowed to the four house tables before going still again.

Anthonie leaned towards Daphne. "What do you theenk would be less embarrassing, burn the hat or cut my head."

"The head," she whispered back. Both of them chuckled before going silent again.

"_When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," _announced Professor McGonagall, now holding a long piece of parchment. "Abbot, Hannah!"

"_The Abbotts are listed as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but their line isn't pure-blood since John Abbott was born in 1956," Uncle Sylvester said to Anthonie. "John Abbott was re-elected on the Geongragamot, and his mother holds a seat in the Wizengamot. Not substantially influent or even particularly rich, but they are generally well-liked. Progressive."_

_Uncle Sylvester had insisted for Anthonie to learn the name of every family with a seat in the Wizengamot, part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, as well as all the 'big names' that would be in his year before he went to Hogwarts. Who was related to who, their parents or family's political views, who had the money or the power, and who he'd better avoid (_really_ avoid)._

_Uncle Sylvester had gotten him a copy of the list of his cohort by pulling some strings as a school governor. He also had made the remark to his sister's great-grandson how small his year group would be, around forty or so. But Anthonie hadn't really cared at the time and was more grateful that it meant he had fewer names to memorise than anything._

A pinked-face girl with blonde hair in cute pigtails sat on the stool, looking nervous at being the first one to be sorted. Professor McGonagall posed the Sorting Hat on the girl's head and it promptly fell down to her nose.

"Why make a hat so large eef eet eez only worn by eleven-year-olds?" whispered Anthonie to Daphne.

Shrugged shoulders were the only answer he got.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat had shouted.

The table closest to them on the right, with the students clad in yellow under their black robes, applauded and cheered as their newest arrival and the first student to be sorted this evening joined them. When the Sorting Hat had called his verdict, Anthonie had noticed the grey on Hannah Abbot's robes turned to a bright yellow and the Hogwarts crest on her robes' chest had changed into a black badger over a yellow background.

"Baxter, Julia!"

"_Muggle-born," Uncle Sylvester had simply said before passing to the next student._

A grinning freckled-face girl with long flowing brown hair went and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall posed the hat on her head and a moment later it loudly proclaimed: "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaws in royal blue, seated at the table on Hufflepuff's left, greeted their new member similarly to how the Hufflepuffs had done prior as Julia Baxter went to sit down with them.

"Beaudelaire, Anthonie!"

"_Your official surname at Hogwarts will be Beaudelaire instead of Bousquet," Uncle Sylvester had explained him a week before he would depart on the Hogwarts Express. "It became practice sometime in the 1750s to use the name of your title as also your surname so as to simplify things."_

"Weesh me luck," whispered Anthonie to Daphne.

The French scion felt all gazes towards him as he advanced towards the stool. He held his head high as he walked and made sure to make his governess proud by walking as she had trained him. He kept his back straight and head high as he seated himself on the stool and crossed his ankles. Professor McGonagall put the filthy hat on his head, but he didn't do anything to stop it as it fell down over his face only to stop at his nose.

The boy had closed his eyes, he knew they wouldn't be visible to the others and he always had this fear that anything close to them would enter in contact with them and somehow blind him. And if anything, he didn't need nor wanted to see the inside of a dirty hat.

"Think I'm dirty, do you?" A voice inside his head said. It was the same that had sung earlier.

"Do you deny it?" he thought. "You just did acknowledge having no harms. Acknowledging that should be easy in comparison."

"Touché, but I'm not here to talk about how you feel about me."

"Obviously."

"I can see here that mister – or do you prefer monsieur? – is quite chivalrous, but bravery isn't your thing, is it?"

"I hardly see the use of running headfirst into danger without thinking first. A well-thought-out plan is always better than being quick on your feet, in my opinion."

"So that's Gryffindor out. You would fit well in any of the other houses, and you would do credit for any of them. But your place isn't with Helga's badgers. You're too individualist for them.

"Now that is difficult, very difficult. I know both Rowena and Salazar would have fought hard to get you in their house. Salazar would have been proud of the ingeniousness of your ancestors to chose their spouses from different magical nations so as to keep their line pure, but healthy. And you plan to follow this tradition.

"Rowena was a lover of the arts under all its forms, and I see you are as well. More precisely drawing. You are also quite creative in your creations may it be when you paint a landscape from the elven world from their descriptions only or when you sketch yourself outfits and give them modifications after modifications before sending them to the tailor. You also follow the old adage of a healthy mind in a healthy body. Rowena would have looked up at you for doing what she hadn't the will for.

"You are individualist, something valued both by Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You think things through before taking a course of action and you always wanted to prove yourself to your tutors, reading in advance and practising more than demanded."

The voice stopped speaking for a moment.

"Funny… you seem to have two opposing ambitions."

"What do you mean?"

"It's right here, inside your mind. But maybe I shouldn't tell you the details. But to simplify, one would suit the Ravenclaw inside you while the other would better suit you inner Slytherin."

"How useful."

"I caught that sarcasm."

"You were meant too."

"Where… to put… you…" the hat slowly said.

It started to argue with itself for a long while, but as both could hear what the other thought while the hat was on his head, he heard him whispering to himself.

"I will be sorted, though, right?"

"Oh yes, don't worry, the longest it took me to sort someone was fifteen minutes and you can't fathom how much they were on a completely different page than anyone else. But that's what happens when you sort a Sylvan elf who is eleven by Sylvan standards but way older by human standards."

"How old were they in human years? If I may ask."

"Around 600 years old, I'm not completely sure. Them elves have a weird way of counting years, and before you ask, I don't know how they do. I wasn't created to understand non-human languages and so couldn't understand most of his memories. That was a very confusing experience."

Anthonie heard gasps coming from every direction.

"What happened?"

"Looks like I've been on your head for five minutes."

"Is that bad?"

"Oh no, don't worry. You see, I usually take less than five minutes to sort the students, sometimes from the moment I make contact with someone's head. They call those that take more than five minutes for me to sort 'Hatstalls', and my last one was Professor McGonagall when I sorted her into Gryffindor in 1947."

"Have you made a choice, yet?"

"Yes. After deliberations, I think you would do better in SLYTHERIN!"

Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat off his head, and Anthonie walked towards the table on the far right where Slytherin house cheered and applauded for its new member.

At the High Table, most of the teachers had a look of interest in witnessing a Hatstall. Professor Dumbledore was politely clapping one hand on the other's backside like he did with every newly sorted student, but his eyes were twinkling more than usual. Hatstalls were very rare after all. The last one had been when he himself had put the Sorting Hat on Minerva's head, and they had had a close call with Peter Pettigrew in 1971.

Closer to the left end of the High Table and seated beside her close friend, Bathsheba Babbling, Sybil Trelawney made a gasp and looked at her deck of cards as if this was confirming one of her dooming predictions. On her left, Septima Vector was simply rolling her eyes at the batty Divination professor and clapped her hands to the boy who was just sorted into her old house.

Anthonie only noticed his uniform had changed to match his housemates' when he put his hands on the table and saw his grey gown's sleeves had become green. A further examination at his school robes assured what he already knew had happened. Anthonie Beaudelaire was now an official member of Slytherin house.

Next to Anthonie, a girl a couple of years older than him with a green badge on her robes and strawberry-blonde hair in a low bun shook his hand. "Welcome to Slytherin house. I'm Gemma, Gemma Farley."

"Nice to meet you, Gemma," replied Anthonie.

"Black, Paracelsus," called Professor McGonagall.

"Did she say '_Black_'?"

"As in _Sirius Black_, Black?"

"I thought the line had ended," Anthonie heard someone from his table.

"Don't be ridiculous," replied someone else. "They must be Muggle-born."

"With a first name like Paracelsus?"

"_Ahem_."

The whispers had been getting louder and louder until every student fell silent as the smiling Headmaster intervened. He nodded at Professor McGonagall, and she called again. "Black, Paracelsus!"

A pale boy with short curly black hair and a thin face advanced and sat on the stool. The boy's face had been completely devoid of emotion, but his body language betrayed anxiety.

"_Paracelsus Black. Grandson of Sigmus Black," told Uncle Sylvester. "His grandfather – who died five years ago, now – was disowned from his family for marrying a Muggle woman. He went overseas with his wife and raised his son, Perseus, outside the country. Perseus was homeschooled by his father, but came back to Britain, married, and had a child he raised in this country._

"_They have no political nor economic power. Today they are an average half-blood family living somewhere in Wales, I believe."_

It took two minutes for the Sorting Hat before it sorted Paracelsus Black into "GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a short moment of silence before two identical red-head boys at Gryffindor table whistled and applauded. Following the twins' example, the rest of their house also cheered their new member.

"Bones, Susan!"

"_The House of Bones. What a tragic fate they had. Of the nine that lived through the war, only three survived: Adhaline, Amelia, and Susan Bones. Amelia's older brother, Edgar, and his wife were attacked in their home. Edward Bones, her younger brother, was killed while on patrol, and his wife died of the Dragon Pox two weeks later, leaving their little daughter, Susan, orphan. Their father also died of the Pox around two years earlier. Aurelia Bones died of a broken heart when she learned her two sons and their wives – one of them heavily pregnant - had died. Adhaline, who was the regent holder of the Wizengamot family seat until Susan was of age, died in her sleep last Christmas. Little Susan has spent most of her childhood at the Abbotts', under the watchful eyes of Mrs Abbott while Amelia worked."_

The auburn-haired girl Anthonie had met multiple times during the month of October of the year 1988 sat on the stool before the Sorting Hat put her into "HUFFLEPUFF!" after a moment on her head.

Next up was "Boot, Terry!", a boy with pale brown hair. Uncle Sylvester said he was a 'new' pure-blood and his father was on the Geongragamot but was otherwise an average child as far as his pedigree went. The Sorting Hat quickly put him in Ravenclaw.

"Brocklehurst, Amanda!" was a cute blonde girl with her hair in a French braid who sat on the stool with her ankles crossed and her back straight.

"_The Noble House of Brocklehurst is one of those pure-blood family I do not understand why it wasn't listed as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight._

"_Progressive-leaning Moderates in the Wizengamot. Her great-grandfather, Lord Ethelred Brocklehurst, is the one who holds the family seat in the Wizengamot. Lord Brocklehurst is particularly well-known and liked in the artistic community for being the number one patron of the Diagonal Theatre and one of many painters. I greatly respect him for this, and so does many of the Wizengamot's members."_

The Sorting Hat thought for a while and also sorted Amanda Brocklehurst in Ravenclaw.

Lavender Brown, one of the girls who shared their boat with Tracey, was called next and was the second one to be sorted into Gryffindor. Following her was Millicent Bulstrode, and he could understand how her family got to be part of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight just by looking at her.

Never having been accused of being Death Eaters didn't mean the Bulstrode family wasn't blood purist at heart. The sort that went too far. Millicent's mother had been friends with the current Mrs Parkinson and the friendship was said to be reflected by their daughters.

Millicent was tall and strongly built, most certainly due to her being raised on a farm, and oddly resembled her first cousin, Vincent Crabbe. But to the girl's credit, she was thinner than him, and her eyes looked somewhat more alive.

Millicent was sorted into Slytherin, to Anthonie's mild disappointment, but the boy didn't show it and politely applauded along the other Slytherins. The dark-haired girl sat opposite him. They only nodded at each other before looking back at the Sorting. Anthonie might also have turned his nose the tiniest bit upwards.

Michael Corner was visibly dressed in the school's Muggle version of the uniform and looked second-hand at a better look. The Muggle-born boy was sorted to Ravenclaw, and next came Stephen Cornfoot.

Stephen Cornfoot came from a half-blood family. The only thing distinguishing them from the masses was their centuries-old apothecary in Diagon Alley. Cornfoot followed Corner to Ravenclaw.

Crabbe was next and was sorted into Slytherin, to Anthonie's great dismay, but still applauded – if not very sincerely – as the boy went to sit next to his cousin. Tracey came next, and Anthonie was relieved when his friend was sorted into Slytherin as well.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Anthonie whispered to Tracey next to him, making sure no one else could hear.

Gryffindor's third new member of the evening came in the form of Fay Dunbar.

"_The Dunbar House is a minor one in the Wizengamot, as well as being Progressive. They have made quite a few great Potioneers and even some Alchemists. You'd do well to look at this girl in your Potions class if you share them with her."_

Kevin Entwhistle had been simply described as Muggle-born by Uncle Sylvester and was sorted into Hufflepuff.

It was Sybil's turn, now. Both Anthonie and Tracey waited anxiously while the Sorting Hat made its decision before being relieved when they heard it proclaim "SLYTHERIN!"

They both cheered the loudest at their table as they welcomed their friend. At the table next to theirs, two older boys were loudly clapping their hands. One of them waving his hand at the girl, who replied similarly when she saw her brother.

"I'm so happy you're with us," said Tracey.

"Me too," replied Sybil. "I didn't want to be alone in another house with you two and Daphne in Slytherin."

Justin Finch-Fletchey was a Muggle-born boy with short, dark curly hair coiffed elegantly, and was sorted into Hufflepuff. Uncle Sylvester hadn't dismissed him as an unknown force like the other Muggle-borns before him, though. Both his parents were apparently peers of the Muggle aristocracy, with his father having the title of Baronet and a position in Parliament at Westminster as well as being a well-known philanthropist. The boy was also supposed to go to an elite school in London before he and his parents learned about magic.

Seamus Finnegan, a short, sandy-haired Irish half-blood was next and was sorted into brave Gryffindor.

"Goldstein, Anthony!"

Great, now there'd be two of them with that name. Anthonie could already hear the 'which one's'.

"_The Goldsteins have invested a great deal in the Muggle economy, and as such are quite wealthy. They also used to have a couple of apothecaries in Britain that sold 'miracle cures' to Muggles – nothing that went too much against the Statute of Secrecy – but they were forced to close them in 1902 by the Ministry. The only reason they weren't forced to do so before was that despite their advances in science, the Victorians were all dropping like flies because of the most menial things like stairs._

"_They currently are half-bloods, and Abraham Goldstein holds a seat in the Geongragamot. But if Abraham's son marries well, he'll be a grandfather to pure-bloods."_

Anthony Goldstein had deep golden-blond hair and was shortly sorted into Ravenclaw. Following was Gregory Goyle, and the wide-shouldered boy was sorted to Slytherin.

"We've got the entire set, now," whispered Tracey to her two friends as they politely applauded the boy.

"Granger, Hermione!"

"_Not economically or politically influent in any way, although apparently well off due to both her parents working as specialised Healers of sorts. I also found out she was able to skip a year at her primary school due to her surprisingly high grades – full notes in everything but sports."_

Barely had the Sorting Hat made contact with Hermione's bushy hair had he called "RAVENCLAW!"

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

It took more than two minutes for the ancient hat to decide, but it settled itself to sort the pure-blood heiress into "SLYTHERIN!". Daphne kept a poised and calm attitude as she got up from the school and walked to her friends at Slytherin's table. But the silver-blonde let a small smile show as she sat between her cousin and her oldest friend.

Wayne Hopkins, Anna Hughes, and Meghan Jones were three Muggle-borns and were sorted into Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff respectively. Of the three, Uncle Sylvester had found out Meghan Jones was the younger sister of Auror Recruit Hestia Jones.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom leads the Progressive faction in the Wizengamot, but they lost a bit of influence after the Blood War. What happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom – overexposure to the Cruciatus Curse – affected their image. Two great Aurors, they were, and friends with the Bones children. Augusta inherited the Wizengamot seat when her husband died six years ago, and has overly-protected her grandson since. She tells he's very clumsy and shy, but he has a great love for plants and everything that grows in soil."_

Neville almost took four minutes and a half before he was put into Gryffindor. Almost two Hatstalls in just one evening? The odds were astronomical, considering the last one had apparently been forty-four years ago.

The boy immediately ran towards Gryffindor table, not even taking the Sorting Hat off, before he went back and gave the ancient enchanted hat to Professor McGonagall. This caused most of the students to laugh at the boy, some louder than others.

Isobel MacDougal was a red-headed half-blood girl native to the Scottish Highlands. Her family had largely fallen out of favour for participating in the Rebellion of 1745 against the orders of the Ministry to not do so and even had lost their Wizengamot seat for that. Today they were a well-off half-blood family living in a small and empty manor-style house.

The girl was sorted into Ravenclaw after short deliberations from the Sorting Hat and walked to her house's table under the sound of applause from her new housemates as Professor McGonagall called Ernest Macmillan.

Macmillan was a stout-looking, blond boy. His mother, Fiona Macmillan, was the daughter of the influential Irish pure-blood O'Flaherty family, and as such, House Macmillan had gained some additional allies in Ireland. Uncle Sylvester had told him he knew the Macmillan scion has had many play dates with the Smith scion by the past, and the two could be friends, but he wasn't completely sure as they seemed to have somewhat parted ways as they got older.

Ernest was sorted to Hufflepuff, and his place on the stool was very shortly replaced by Draco Malfoy. Just like with Hermione, the Sorting Hat had barely touched the pointed-faced boy's slicked-back, blond hair before it put him in Slytherin.

"_His father was accused of being a Death Eater when the war ended but was declared innocent after he used the Imperius Curse excuse like many did. The richest family and leader of the Traditionalist faction, and holds two seats in the Wizengamot. Lucius Malfoy, of course, holds the Malfoy seat, but his wife is the holder of the Black seat as a proxy since she is the only legitimate family member left. The Rowens, Gibbons, Dunns, Goyles, and Crabbes follow Lucius like their fathers did for his, and their spawn will follow his. Theodosius Nott is also a great friend of Lord Malfoy. It would be wise to not go against the Malfoy heir, my boy, and better to simply avoid him. Otherwise, you could face more than you bargained for."_

"Of course," said Tracey not-so-quietly, her hands barely making any sound as she clapped.

Her three friends beside her weren't more enthusiastic as they watched the boy with short blond hair swaggering towards their table. Malfoy sat next to Goyle, making him seating opposite Sybil, but he barely gave them his attention as he looked back to the Sorting Ceremony.

He mustn't have liked the name that was called next, Anthonie thought.

"Mayer-Pacheco, Prenecka!"

The girl who sat on the stool had well-cared-for brown hair in a braid going down her entire back, stopping at her waist. The girl was also a Muggle-born – or at least was in practical terms. Her father, Uncle Sylvester had told Anthonie, was a Squib originating from Portugal, he believed. Her father had apparently become a historian, and she was virtually a Muggle-born. One minute later, and Ravenclaw was the Sorting Hat's verdict.

Lillian Moon was a cute girl with almond-shaped eyes and flowing, limp dark hair. _"Average, city-dwelling half-blood family."_ She was sorted into Slytherin.

The next two students would also be sorted to the house of the snake. They were Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson.

"_The Noble House of Nott is one of the most influential families of the Traditionalists in the Wizengamot, next only to the Malfoys and Blacks. Lord Nott was also accused of being a Death Eater and used the same excuse as his friend Malfoy to avoid Azkaban. There were also rumours he killed his wife when she mysteriously died two years ago. There was no evidence, but no one knew how she died or have seen her body since her death was announced. You should also avoid his son. He doesn't seem to idolise his father like Malfoy Jr. does, but better be on the safe side of things."_

Theodore had a neutral face and short brown hair. His blue eyes were active with intelligence, but, just like his face, revealed no emotion.

Pansy was very much like Draco, in a way, with her loud personality and the feeling of superiority she had. The girl had neatly cut, just-above-shoulder-length black hair in a bob, and her face was weirdly twisted and hard in a way Anthonie wasn't able to describe. This was actually amplified by her smirks and sneers, which she looked to be able to switch between the two like a lightbulb that turned on and off.

Next up were the Patil twin sisters, the two other girls who shared their boat with Tracey. Their parents had 'sailed off', so to speak, from the distant Indian subcontinent to Britain and raised their twin girls there, with regular trips back to the wizarding Indies to visit their family.

Padma was the first one to go and went to Ravenclaw. Parvati followed but was sent to Gryffindor. It was interesting to see how even identical twins could be sorted into different houses. If anything else, _that_ would distinguish one and the other, and Anthonie thought they might like being seen as individual persons instead of a two-for-one package.

A petite and shy-looking girl going by the name of Sally-Anne Perks was called following the twins.

"_Muggle-born." _

"HUFFLEPUFF!" had called the hat.

"Potter, Harry!"

The Great Hall went silent for an instant before exploding into whispers.

"Potter, _did she say?_"

"The _Harry Potter?_"

Dozens of students tried to get a good look at the boy by craning between each other. Anthonie, being seated closer to the stool than many, had been able to see the boy had messy black hair and round glasses before the Sorting Hat fell over his face.

"_Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The one who was able to finally vanquish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while still a baby. No one has seen him in public since his parents went into hiding during the war. The only distinguishing features we know of him are raven hair and his legendary lighting bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Other than that, we know nothing of the boy except that he has access to a considerable wealth that accumulated over the centuries with some small patented inventions. Anyone saying otherwise is lying to themselves or is selling fiction. The most profitable and recent invention would be the very successful Sleekeazy's Hair Potion created by Fleamont Potter, Potter's late-grandfather. Ironically – and strangely enough – his son, James, always refused to put it in his incredibly messy hair."_

The students waited for a while for Potter's sorting to be announced. At one point towards the end, the boy seemed to whisper – probably to the Sorting Hat – before it loudly proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!"

The table with the students clad in black over red burst into loud cheers and applause. There were even the two red-headed twin brothers from before who were yelling: "_We got Potter! We got Potter!_"

Malfoy looked crestfallen at this like he had made a mistake that caused this. But what, Anthonie didn't know.

There were only nine students remaining to be sorted, and none of their faces was familiar to Anthonie. Elizabeth Runcorn was sorted into Ravenclaw, to Anthonie's surprise, but not displeasure. Uncle Sylvester had taught him very little more about the mousy-haired girl that Daphne, Sybil, and Tracey hadn't already told him, and none of them depicted a particularly positive picture.

Oliver Smith was a simple Muggle-born boy who went into Gryffindor and coincidentally shared his surname with pure-blood Zacharias Smith who himself was sorted into Hufflepuff. The blond boy was part of the line of the direct heirs of Helga Hufflepuff, and his family held no small pride or influence due to this.

As the only known direct heirs of Hufflepuff, the Noble House of Smith held a certain prestige that no other family could claim to. Everyone knew of the four Hogwarts founders, after all, and almost everyone had attended it in their youth. The Gryffindor line had died off somewhere during the sixteenth century after Godric's descendant had died childless after multiple generations of only child's. Ravenclaw's line died off with Rowena's own daughter and only child. And Slytherin's heir was but a legend that had made a reappearance at the end of Grindelwald's War.

Dean Thomas was a tall, black boy with short bushy hair. Muggle-born and raised by a single mother. He was sorted into Gryffindor.

Christopher Turner and Lisa Turpin were sorted in Ravenclaw one after the other and would be the lasts to be before the next first of September.

Ronald Weasley had impressively red hair and his face was covered with freckles and… was that dirt on his nose? His robes were so worn out the black fabric had turned to grey, but the grey ones at least changed to a decent red shade when he was sorted into Gryffindor. The Weasleys were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and was one of the poorest families in wizarding Britain with seven children, one stay-at-home mother and a father working as a lowly Ministry employee being the only income source.

Wait, how could you even buy secondhand pre-Sorting robes?

Matthew Williams, a timid-looking Muggle-born boy wearing round glasses and with wavy dirty-blond hair, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Blaise Zabini, a handsome, dark-skinned boy with a cocky grin, joined the Slytherins. With this last verdict from the Sorting Hat, the Sorting Ceremony was officially over, and the magical hat and the accompanying stool were put away by Professor McGonagall, along with her long list of names.

The wizened Headmaster got up from his golden throne-like chair. The man was smiling at his students through his silver beard, looking at them over his golden half-moon glasses.

"_Welcome!_" cheerfully said the Headmaster in a deep, powerful voice one wouldn't attribute to a man of his age. "_Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to tell a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!_

"_Thank you!_"

He sat back down, and the students applauded, some even cheering. Slytherin house seemed to be the least loud, though. No one cheered, from what Anthonie could see. Some, rare as they were, had only clapped their hands twice before stopping.

"Wise words," said Tracey in a deadpan.

Her three friends and herself laughed before serving themselves to some food, which had appeared on the plates while they were applauding. Anthonie served himself a roasted chicken thigh, peas, carrots, and some potatoes before pouring himself apple juice in his goblet.

The long-haired boy didn't add additional seasoning to his meal like some did. He preferred the taste of meat without gravy, and didn't know what that red sauce in the bottle was, and didn't felt like experimenting new things that evening. He added a pinch of salt on his potatoes, though.

Everything on the table seemed like it would be heavy on the stomach. The meat was very much present to the detriment of vegetables. Cheese and fruits were completely absent unless one counted juices in the latter's case.

"So, Anthonie, where are you from?" asked Gemma Farley.

« _Plaît-il?_ » Anthonie replied by habitude. "Sorree, I meant 'Pardon'?"

"Where are you from? Your accent doesn't seem native from around here, and your name doesn't either."

"From France, actuallee," said Anthonie. "But I also spent many weeks a year in Germany, spending holidays weeth family on my mother's side."

"Where exactly from France are you?" asked the prefect. "If you don't mind my asking."

Anthonie smiled. "From Southern France, South-West of Bordeaux. A mile or two from the Bay of Biscay's shore."

"Why not go to Beauxbâtons, then? It must be an easier prospect to study in one's first language, and the weather must be better there than here."

They both chuckled at that last statement.

"Yes, it must be," said Anthonie. "But in all honesty, it was because my friends would come here.

"My _only_ friends," he added more quietly.

Gemma nodded. "I understand. On another note, are you interested in a particular subject?"

"Oh yes," said Anthonie eagerly. "I would say History of Magic, but I know what the current teacher made of the class, so I'll answer you with Charms as I've always been adept weeth them."

Gemma agreed. "Charms is easily one of the most popular subjects, and I, myself, like the lessons very much. Professor Flitwick and Professor Campbell are very good at teaching their subject."

The prefect nodded towards the High Table. "They're there, next to each other. The small man sitting on books is Professor Flitwick, and the blonde woman on his left is Professor Campbell. Professor Flitwick's also the co-Head of Ravenclaw."

Professor Flitwick was indeed very short, almost like a goblin. He had short silver-white hair with a matching moustache and a pointed goatee and small glasses. Professor Campbell, on the other hand, was a young witch of average height with long blonde hair held in a bun.

"Who's the other Head of Ravenclaw?" asked Anthonie.

"Professor Moon, also Head of the Astronomy department."

The girl indicated towards an older-looking man with curly, shoulder-length silver hair and a wrinkled face. He wore a brimless navy-blue pointed hat matching his navy-blue and gold robes.

"The man next to him who's smiling is Professor Snow," the prefect added. "He's our senior head of house as well as the Alchemy teacher and the Head of the Potions department. I heard they were both in the same year when they studied here and were friends since."

Professor Snow was an old man a bit on the chubby side and seemed to smile even as he was eating. His hair and beard, of a snow-white colour, blended into each other, making them look like one and the same.

"Professor Snow's smile… doesn't it look a bit unnatural?" Anthonie asked the older student.

"That would be because it _is_," answered Gemma. "In my four previous years here, I've never seen Professor Snow _not_ smiling. But that would be because of a physical handicap."

"Meaning?" inquired the boy.

"Professor Snow was held in Azkaban before he became a teacher here," said Gemma. "He was sentenced for five years for the application of unnecessary force in self-defence. Generally, in the rare cases in which someone gets out of that hell alive after finishing their sentences, they're sent to St-Mungo's and they receive treatment to counter the Dementors' effects on them.

"The treatment consists of Cheering Charms, an important consumption of chocolate, and regular doses of diluted Elixir of Euphoria. It's not without possible after-effects, though, and as shown by our senior head of house, one of them is a permanent smile. It's not like he can only feel or express joy, he very well can be angry, his facial muscles just make him having a permanent smile. It's just one oddity you'll grow used to in time."

Anthonie ate in silence for a moment before asking something else to the prefect.

"You said Professor Snow was the senior head of Slytherin. Who is the 'junior' one, then?"

"That would be Professor Snape, the other Potions teacher," said Gemma before indicating him to the boy.

Professor Snape was seated next to a nervous-looking man wearing a purple turban who was talking to him. His face was pale, his mouth frowning, his nose long and hooked, his black hair greasy, and his robes were completely pitch-black. He seemed the opposite of the old, smiling, white-haired, and colourfully dressed Professor Snow.

"He doesn't really like students not in Slytherin, particularly the Gryffindors, and they feel the same way towards him," said Gemma.

Anthonie spent the rest of dinner talking with Daphne, Sybil, and Tracey. He took some of the bacon to taste it after he finished his plate and scooped himself some vanilla and chocolate ice cream with a glass of milk when the food disappeared before the puddings replaced them. The puddings finally also disappeared and silence fell over the Great Hall as Professor Dumbledore rose up again.

"Ahem – I would like to again take some of your time now that your stomachs are full to give you some start-of-term notices.

"Firstly, I'd like for us all to welcome back Professor Quirinus Quirrell to our school. Professor Quirrell was our Muggle Studies teacher until he took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship for the last two months of the 1989-1990 term when Professor Roberts was rendered unable to teach for the rest of the term. Over the last year, Professor Quirrell travelled the world to gain more experience and knowledge in his new subject and has returned to us wiser to teach you all in the ways of defensive magic. Welcome back, Professor Quirrell!"

The man with a purple turban seated next to Professor Snape got up and waved at the students before sitting back down. The student body and the other teachers applauded before the Headmaster continued.

"First-years – as well as some of our older students – should note that the forest around the castle is strictly forbidden to all pupils who aren't supervised by one of our staff members.

"Mr Filch, our caretaker, asked me to remember you all that no magic should be done in the corridors as well that many pranking or practical joke items are forbidden. For more details, you can consult Mr Filch's complete list of forbidden items in his office.

"_Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch._

"Finally, and this is of the utmost importance so I would like for you and every one of you to listen to me. The right-hand side corridor of the Third-floor in the West Wing as been closed this year for security reasons. Its access is strictly forbidden to all pupils, and under no circumstances – and I do mean under _no _circumstances – should any of you be there until it is reopened. Its access will be locked, and none of you should try to enter it unless you wish to die a very painful death."

Professor Dumbledore's tone had become very sombre in his last notice, and some looked worried.

"That's odd," said Gemma. "The Headmaster usually gives us a more specific reason than just some vague excuses about security when we can't go somewhere. The forest inhabits a tribe of centaurs – I heard some Care of Magical Creature NEWT students saying there was a colony of acromantulas in it, too – and the Restricted Section in the library contains books on very dark magic and such. I wonder what it could be.

"The Head Boy and Head Girl haven't told us anything on the train," added the prefect. "I'll ask for more information to Professor Snow."

The Headmaster announced to them to sing the school song. What ensued was one of the worst cases of bad singing Anthonie had ever experienced. The Headmaster was using his wand as a baton to direct the students, while the other teachers abstained from singing. Professor McGonagall looked visibly disapproving with her lips in a thin line, Professor Snow's smile was strained, and Professor Flitwick was visibly cringing at the lack of organisation between the students, or even the same melody. Finally, the horrendous sounds ended with the ginger, Gryffindor twins finishing the song with a half-decent attempt at singing with Chopin's Funeral March as their melody. The Headmaster dismissed them, and Gemma led them to the Slytherin common room.

Unlike the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor's common rooms, the Slytherin one was located in the dungeons. How charming. At first, Anthonie had found the wording strange when he had read this in _Hogwarts: A History_. The French boy had been confused because in French a 'donjon' is the main tower of a castle where the garrison would retreat to in last resort, not a place underground where prisoners would be kept. So it was strange for the young French-speaker that it hadn't been said to be in a tower like the previous two.

The prefect led the first-years down the spiral staircase on the main staircase's left. It was a long way down before they got out in Dungeon One. Their group passed in front of two Potions laboratories, an Alchemy classroom, and Professors Snow and Snape's offices and quarters before they stopped in front of a blank piece of wall.

Gemma turned to them."Take a moment to look around, because this is where the entrance to our common room is."

"But there's nothing here," said Lillian.

"Thank you for that comment, Moon. I wonder how we all survived without your observation skills before today," said Pansy Parkinson sarcastically.

Most of the first-years snickered at the girl's snide comment, including Anthonie, Sybil, and Tracey.

Gemma indicated at the wall on their right-hand side. "The entrance is hidden in this wall. All you have to do is say the password, and it'll open in an archway to let you in.

"The password, for now, is 'Nobility', but it changes every fortnight, so you should check the notice board in the common room every now and then."

Gemma told the password to the wall, and it opened like the wall in Diagon Alley would to let you access from the Leaky Cauldron to the alley or the other way around. The Slytherin common room was long and large. Its ceiling wasn't especially high, but not too low either. The room's main light source came from the green light emitted by multiple decorated, silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling by chains, and a lit fire inside a large, ornate fireplace. A large part of the paved-stone floor was covered by beautiful green, black, silver, and gold Persian rugs, and the walls by medieval tapestries and animated portraits of illustrious alumni of Slytherin house. The furniture was of good quality and good taste, something akin to what you would have found in one of the many drawing-rooms of the Palais des Beaussiers. You could reproach him many things, but you had to admit in the end that Salazar Slytherin had good tastes.

Speaking of the devil. Over the fireplace, a life-sized portrait of Salazar Slytherin was hanging. Unfortunately, it wasn't animated, so they wouldn't be able to communicate with the ancient founder of their house. In the portrait, Slytherin was dressed in regal dark green robes. His jewellery was very understated, consisting of a simple golden ring and a heavy silver locket with an 'S' engraved in it. The founder's eyes were dark and piercing, and his small beard was white like his hair. If Anthonie was honest, the boy would have found it difficult to not think the man was a dark mage even if he knew from trustworthy sources he wasn't only by looking at the portrait.

Surprisingly, the common room, even though it must have been at least twenty miles underground, had windows. Those windows looked into the depth of the lake the first-years had crossed to get to the castle earlier. Although, 'look' was a strong word. They were so deep underground that the only things you could see from the windows were some ivy and the occasional passing fish right off the windows.

Gemma showed them the currently empty notice board before telling them some rules.

"Okay, first-years, you're in Slytherin, now, and this status comes with both good and bad. I would imagine all of you know this, but just in case one of you wasn't informed –," her gaze lingered over Anthonie, "I'll officially confirm to you that Slytherin house is the _least_ liked house in the school. Meaning, when you're in front of students from other houses, you show a united front. I don't care if you got into some kind of quarrel with one of your dorm mates or whatnot, we're the underdogs, the targets.

"As we speak, the other upperclassmen of the other houses must already tell all kind of sordid and ridiculous stories to put our house in a bad look. They'll say you're dark witches and wizards in-the-making, people who only think about marrying their cousins so as to keep their family lines pure, or that you wouldn't think twice before killing one of them just to get a modicum of benefit out of it. The other houses, especially the Gryffindors, will try to get at you in any way they can. I wouldn't fret over the other first-years for now, though, one in three of them are Muggle-borns or Muggle-raised people who only discovered about magic this summer. But be cautious of the older students, even a single second-year could be a threat if you're alone and they take you by surprise. That's why you should never go into the basements or above the fourth floor alone. Our dungeons are separated from the basements, so you won't see any Hufflepuff wandering around here, and the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws are on the seventh floor, but their territories unofficially extend down to the fifth floor. The fourth floor has the Hospital Wing and the Library, so it's neutral ground.

"As I was saying, if you don't see eye to eye with one of your housemates, come to us prefects or go to Professor Snow or Professor Snape. And do it in _private_, we'll work out a solution together.

"On a brighter note, your status matter and your achievements will put you ahead of the others. Academic achievements, magical talent, won points, and achieving something for our house will grant you more respect within our house, and our esteemed heads of house might turn their eyes away if you toe along with the rules."

"Thank you for introducing the Slytherin spirit to our youngest, Miss Farley," said a smooth voice.

Professor Snow was at the entrance, followed by Professor Snape. This time, compared to when the students were singing the school's song, the elder's smile didn't seem forced and looked to reach his blue eyes. Professor Snape, for his part, had a neutral expression and didn't look as surly as he did during the feast. Maybe he didn't like big crowds. The whole of Slytherin house was in no way a small group but was nothing like the five-hundred or so people in the Great Hall.

"Gather round, children!" called Professor Snow.

All the students in the common room got closer to their heads of house.

"Good evening, everyone, and I wish a good term to you all." Professor Snow's voice sounded kind, but cold at the same time. "I wanted to welcome you all back into your second home, and welcome our newcomers."

Professor Snow addressed himself directly to the first-years. "I am Professor Snow, Head of the Potions department, Alchemy teacher, and your senior head of house. Beside me is Professor Snape, your junior head of house. Professor Snape will be your Potions teacher until your fourth year. I'll be the one to teach you Potions for your OWLs' year and your NEWTs' years if you ever go down that path, but that isn't for a long time.

"I just wanted to personally greet you into our house, and wish you success, as I fear I won't be seeing you much until your fifth year. And so I bid you all a very good night and remember Slytherin's most important rule: Do not get caught, accusations will be nought. Do not be seen, your reputation stays pristine." He gave them a subtle wink before exiting the common room. Professor Snape nodded at them in acknowledgement before following the older wizard, his black robes billowing behind him.

The prefects led them to the dormitories' entrances: girls on the left, boys on the right. Their dormitory was on the first floor from the common room. The room was large and semi-circled in shape. The curved wall was taken up by six four-poster beds made of black oak and draped with emerald green curtains. At the beds' feet were large chests, and at their side were bedside tables and lamps and small diamond-panelled windows on the wall. The flat wall was taken by wardrobes and drawers for clothes, but its centre was occupied by a great ornate mirror over some sort of decorated mahogany desk with multiple drawers on its side. There was no apparent heat source, but the dormitory was comfortably warm and dry compared to the cold and humidity of the main dungeons.

"I take this one," said Anthonie, sitting on the bed furthest from the bathroom door.

As if to accentuate his point, Anthonie's trunk appeared on the bed's chest.

Malfoy took the second furthest bed from his. The two next to it were taken by Crabbe and Goyle. Theodore Nott took the one in the middle, and Blaise Zabini took the last one, between Anthonie and Theodore.

The boys then all did their routine at their own rhythm and in silence before going to bed. Anthonie took his nightgown, robe, and pants for the night to the bathroom and changed in his sleep attire in the vacant bathroom.

Once changed, the boy put his fluffy slippers to avoid walking on the cold stone floor and took his hairbrush and a silk ribbon from his trunk before sitting at the desk and igniting the lamp placed onto it to brush his hair. Hair brushed, he attached them for the night and waited for Goyle to get out of the bathroom so he could go brush his teeth and wash his face.

When all was said and done, Anthonie put away his things in his trunk and told the other boys a collective 'goodnight' before he turned off his bedside lamp and closed his bed's curtains. The other boys talked for a bit, but they finally also got to bed, and a minute or two later, Morpheus brought him in her kingdom.

* * *

In the middle of the night, two boys – twin brothers – with hair red like fire and freckles all over their identical faces were standing in front of the door leading to the forbidden corridor on the Third-floor. They had been waiting for ten minutes for Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris, to go away before they could proceed. They had made sure they were sufficiently far by looking at a large and elaborate piece of enchanted parchment.

It was actually a very detailed map of Hogwarts castle and the surrounding grounds. But that wasn't all. The map also showed the names and location and everyone inside the perimeter of the castle's wards. And there was one name on the other side of the forbidden corridor's door. It was written in an abnormally large font – even larger than Hagrid's – and was far from being very painful-deathy like the Headmaster had said about what would meet the students on the other side.

"What kind of thing that assures you a very painful death could possibly be called 'Fluffy'?" said one of the twins. Not too loudly so the only other person to hear him would be his twin.

"I don't think it's a question of what it is, but more who named it," said the other twin.

"Hagrid," they both said in unison. It wasn't a question or even a guess, it was an affirmation.

True to the Headmaster's words, the door was locked. But a simple Unlocking Charm students learned in first-year revealed that the access to the forbidden corridor wasn't as out of the students' reach as the ancient wizard let on. The twins opened the door, only peeking their heads inside, one over the other; resulting in a comical sight akin to a cartoon. But they didn't keep their heads inside for long, fearing of losing them.

"D'you think the three-headed dog is some kind of sick prank from Hagrid and Dumbledore?"

"No, didn't you see? It was standing on a trap."

"You see a giant three-headed dog your twin brother looks at the floor," the first twin said to himself. "You reckon it's guarding something?"

"Well, it's certainly not staying there to embellish the scenery," replied the other twin.

They both huffed. "Well, that sucks. We can't do anything with that."

"Do you think we could throw Mrs Norris in there with him?"

"Whoa, Fred," George said with his hands in front of him. "That's too much even for us."

"Still, the option is still there."

The two brothers – with the help of their magical map – returned to their dormitory without being noticed by anyone, thinking about who could be their target for their start-of-term prank.

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**A.N.: Hope you liked the chapter. Leave a review.**


	9. Classes Begin

**A.N.: Thanks again to Delta but also LaViolaViolaRosa for leaving a review on my last chapter, the anonymous guest who reviewed some time ago and to all those who followed and favourited my story, it is greatly appreciated. I hope you liked the way I wrote the Sorting Ceremony and Dumbledore's peculiar notice in the last chapter because it was kind of a chore to keep track in concerns to the former (though I still really liked writing that). I hope you like this chapter and leave a review.**

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**Disclaimer: Did students at Hogwarts had to wait for two months before actually casting magic? Then I don't own Harry Potter.**

Anthonie woke up in warm, green, silken sheets and over a soft mattress and pillow. The boy's surroundings were almost completely filled in darkness, except for a weak green light. He probably would have returned to his slumber thinking it was the middle of the night, but, fortunately, his bladder was telling him to do otherwise. As such he went in the bathroom.

The other boys were still sleeping, judging by the sound of their breathing – loud snores could be heard coming from behind the curtains on Crabbe's bed – and the pulled-closed curtains of their beds, but the clock on the wall was indicating seven o'clock had just passed. Anthonie took a fresh set of school robes from his trunk and all the other clothing he needed before going into the bathroom.

The long-haired boy took two towels from the bathroom's drawer chest and showered quickly. He tied one of the towels around his head to let the Warming and Drying Charms on the fabric do their magic while he dried his body with the other one. The process was swift, and Anthonie started to dress after he brushed his hair.

Pants and stockings were put on first, quickly followed by white cotton breeches and a white linen shirt. Next was Anthonie's self-lacing corset and two petticoats. A white blouse was put over the corset and was followed by the green, tight-sleeved school gown. The flowing black robe which was immediately fastened from top to bottom came next. Finally, the green sash was tied around his waist, and the boy went back to the dormitory, passing Malfoy who was on his way to the showers.

The other boys in the dormitory were at different stages of readiness. Theodore was putting on his school robes, having showered last night. Blaise took his things and went to shower. And dumb and dumber looked to just get out of bed.

It was general advice for people wearing corsets to always put on shoes before putting the corset, but that was when your shoes had to be tied and so you had to lean down to do so. But Anthonie's high-heeled slippers had no cumbersome things such as laces, he needed only to slip them on and voilà.

Shoes on, Anthonie took his magically-expanded purse filled with all his textbooks, quills, parchment, and everything else he needed for his classes and attached it to his sash before going out.

* * *

Classes started at nine in the morning and ended at five in the evening. With three periods of one hour before and after lunch, which lasted one hour, and breaks of ten minutes between each period. Anthonie was surprised at how much first-years students had free periods. With only three hours per subject except for the two hours they had for Astronomy and Potions, Anthonie only had nineteen hours of classes in a week. Of course, starting the second week of term, the first-years would have an additional hour taken by their Flying classes, which rounded this to a nice round twenty hours.

The Slytherin first-years' first class was Charms with the Hufflepuffs in classroom 2E on the third floor of the East Wing. Their professor for the subject was the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Their professor, small as he was, resorted to a stack of books so as to be seen by his students, and looked quite excitable for his age. They didn't do much during that lesson, though, in Anthonie's opinion. Professor Flitwick took the register at the beginning of the lesson before instructing them on the multiple ways of holding one's wand depending on its dimensions.

This first half of the lesson seemed mostly like unnecessary revision in Anthonie's eyes, who had been taught so three years prior. But the boy understood the importance of it and why it was done. Without even considering the Hufflepuffs and the fact more than half of them were Muggle-borns, some of Anthonie's own housemates didn't know how to properly hold their wands, and they were all raised in the wizarding world and only three were half-bloods. Crabbe and Goyle couldn't distinguish one end from the other, and Lillian Moon was almost only holding the ball-shaped base of hers while Millicent Bulstrode was holding hers by the middle.

The second half also seemed like wasted time to the pure-blood scion and was literally _déjà-vu_ for him. They were thought to voluntarily cast bright sparks from their wands of different colours. If the first half of the lesson at least offered some unheard tips to Anthonie, the second half could at least be described as mildly interesting.

Before he let them try, though, Professor Flitwick cast blue and bronze sparks and made them dance around the classroom. Anthonie tried to do similarly but was only able to make his silver and azure sparks go around his head and couldn't get them to go further than two feet away from his wand when he wasn't making them orbit his head.

Malfoy, Nott, Smith, Macmillan, Daphne, Sybil, and Susan had all been able to make sparks from the first try and could change their colour at will. But as Anthonie seemed to be the only one who could direct his sparks a bit and even make them fly, Professor Flitwick awarded him one point.

When one of the Hufflepuffs, Justin Finch-Fletchey, tried to make some sparks, small hot flames had gotten out his wand and had become out of control when they landed on the floor luckily made of stone. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick had been able to extinguish them swiftly and the only thing remaining from the flames were some black spots on the floor where they had landed.

The lesson continued uneventfully, with some other students able to make sparks and others able to change their colour. Professor Flitwick didn't assign them homework but did ask Justin to stay for a minute when the lesson was over.

* * *

The first-year Slytherins were free for the rest of morning until lunch, after which they had double Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws in classroom 1B just off the Transfiguration Courtyard on the East Wing's ground floor. The Transfiguration Courtyard was a beautiful place where students could freely practice Transfiguration spells or profit of the nice early-September weather while still behind the castle's walls.

There was a tree in a corner with a bench under its shade and some flower bushes were here and there beside the walls separating the sheltered, stone corridors surrounding the courtyard. In the centre was a beautiful fountain made of white marble, and beside it was a large chest filled with objects of all shape, form, and made of different materials: wood, metal, fabric, pottery, everything.

The Slytherin quartet had spent their free period right after lunch in the courtyard while waiting for their double lesson of Transfiguration. They were sitting in the shade of a tree and tried changing matchsticks into needles when they had been joined by Hermione. Sybil had told them her big brother's first practical assignment in Transfiguration had been to change a match into a needle, and that it had been the case for all the subsequent first-years since as it was in the course's curriculum to learn first wood-to-metal Transfiguration.

Daphne and Hermione were definitely the bests of their group, and by far at that. Hermione's match's shape looked halfway to a needle and its colour had turned silvery by the time the third-years exited the classroom their lesson would be in. Daphne, on the other hand, looked to still be partially made out of wood but was shaped like a needle with the eye and everything.

The classroom was quite grand, with an arched high ceiling and the general look of a gothic church. The students' desks, which could seat two students, were placed three by seven. But despite being the two most numerous houses of their year, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first-years didn't even fill the three first rows. The teacher's desk faced the students' own, and beside it stood a tall blackboard covered in text and complicated formulas and diagrams of animals and humans. Other filled blackboards were in the classroom but were less in evidence by being on the sides of the classroom along with boxes, cages, and water tanks.

The quintet seated themselves in the left file, Anthonie and Hermione seated at the front, Daphne and Tracey behind them, and Sybil at the back with Amanda Brocklehurst.

Their teacher, Professor Rosemary, looked to be around the same age as Professor McGonagall and was dressed in old-fashioned, Dandelion robes. Her mousy-coloured hair was put into evidence by her lack of hat, and coiffed in an intricate set of braids that made her look as if she had short hair. She looked less outright severe than the Deputy Headmistress, who was also the Head of the Transfiguration department (along with her position of senior Head of Gryffindor – she really had too many jobs) but was far from the smiling and excitable Professor Flitwick.

Professor Rosemary introduced her students to Transfiguration by explaining its uses, its limits, and its dangers while making them taking notes. Anthonie had put his Dictaquill to work and write down what the teacher was saying while he listened to her attentively. Hermione looked envious at the quill, but still diligently took notes the manual way.

Professor Rosemary first explained to them how Charms and Transfiguration were different.

"You see, Charms require you to _cast_ your magic and can't fundamentally change the molecular structure of things, despite what their effects make you think. But in Transfiguration, you need to _mould_ your magic, just like you transfigure something into something else.

"This is why most witches and wizards will find Transfiguration to be harder than Charms. Most of us, when thinking about magic, simply imagine letting out magical flux and making it take a wanted effect upon contact. But Transfiguration is not that, it demands more subtlety, it works best if you can feel your magic."

Terry Boot put his hand up.

"Yes, Mr Boot?" said Professor Rosemary.

"Professor, what about Conjuring and Vanishing? Why are they classified as Transfigurations?"

"A good question, Mr Boot. One point for Ravenclaw.

"You see, Conjuring and Vanishing are simply transfiguring something from the element of Void into something else or from a known substance into Void. But you can also conjure something, say food, from a known place. This follows the same pattern, but can anyone tell me how it works?"

Some tentative hands rose up, some with more confidence.

"Miss Greengrass?"

"Void is everywhere, Professor," answered Daphne. "By making a known but distant object change into Void, you would be able to bring it back from the Void where you are instead of its original location. Some witches and wizards would vanish their possessions during the Witch Hunts and would conjure them back once they were safe."

"Exactly, Miss Greengrass. Five points to Slytherin.

"Although this isn't a very safe way of transporting things, you can see how some out of the box thinking can make these spells much more useful than what you would originally think."

They continued back to where they had been before and Professor Rosemary taught them the magic behind transforming something into another shape or another substance. Visualisation was the key in Transfiguration, she kept telling them while showing them diagrams of the molecular structure of wood and steel and how one could change them to transfigure them into the other. She also explained to them how the molecular method wouldn't work for every transfiguration since you couldn't visualise the change at that level if you wanted to change, say, a wooden desk into a pig.

Finally, the part the quintet of friends waited for the most finally arrived when Professor Rosemary distributed matches to the class and instructed them to try and transfigure them into needles. They didn't have an incantation to say as incantations were rare in Transfiguration since it consisted of very detailed and various changes and incantations were more useful for single results and effects. Most conjurations, if not all of them, had an incantation, the Vanishing spell also had an incantation (_Evanesco_), and some general Transfiguration spells such as when you wanted to change wood to stone also had incantations, but the latter cases weren't much used since why would you take multiple steps when you could change something into another in a single one.

Anthonie focused himself on changing the match's shape before going for the more complicated wood-to-metal change. Both objects had similar shapes when you thought about it. The needle was thin, pointy, and had an eye at the base, making it larger at that end. The boy was waving his wand in a circle above his match as he visualised it getting thinner and pointy.

He'd felt something in his wand arm, he pointed his wand at the match. Slowly, he turned his wrist, and the match was getting thinner. When he couldn't turn his wrist in the same direction, the match had become pointy at one end. He then made small circles above the end which you would normally light the match with.

At first, it had no effect, so Anthonie closed his eyes, and tried to better visualise it changing into the eye of a needle. It had worked. His match now looked like a wooden needle, something incredibly odd to look at, and its eye was red.

He tried changing it to metal by visualising the outside changes, it becoming silvery and reflecting the light. It had somewhat worked; his wooden needle was now reflecting light while still looking to be made out of wood. He tried some more, but it didn't do anything. Anthonie looked at the blackboard. What did wood and steel have in common? They were composed of carbon… and that seemed to be it in the atomic department. Still in an impasse.

He could continue pushing his will and use the process of knowing the outcome of a wanted change. That seemed like the only thing he could do for now. Beside him, Hermione had already fully transfigured her match into a needle and was tasked by Professor Rosemary to transfigure it back to a match.

Anthonie did multiple wand movements at his assignment. He jabbed, pointed, swished, flicked, waved, circled, and basically did every other wand movements he could think of to get his magic to work and transfigure the wooden needle which reflected the light into actual metal. This seemed to only do minor changes. Professor Rosemary had said he had to _mould_, not _cast _his magic. Wand still pointing at his 'match', he closed his eyes and put two fingers of his left hand on his right forearm, on the side on which he could see his blue veins. Magic was in the blood, and he tried to feel for his pulse while searching for his magic.

He felt it. It felt somewhat electric but soft at the same time. His magic seemed stuck in his wrist. Despite what his teacher had told the class, he had been trying to cast his magic instead of moulding it. Feeling his magic, he moved his wand so as to reshape it so it could exit from his wand correctly.

The long-haired boy also visualised the changes and even imagining the metallic sound the needle would do if it was dropped while doing this. The soft _ting_ it would make instead of the barely audible dull sound a wooden match would do upon landing. His magic was moving, and he felt it go down his wand. He suddenly felt it back in his arm.

He opened his eyes, it looked like it worked. The colour was metallic silver, it still reflected light, and upon closer inspection, the imperfections of the wood's grain looked to be gone. Just to be sure, he dropped it on the desk.

_Ting_

He'd done it. He had had his two wands for three years, now, and Anthonie had finally completed his first transfiguration. He didn't care that Hermione had almost completely transfigured back her match, he had done it.

Professor Rosemary came to their desk and examined Anthonie's assignment. She confirmed it really was a needle made out of steel, now, and congratulated him. The boy looked around the classroom. Hermione had completely transfigured back her match, to which Professor Rosemary awarded her one point, Tracey's match had barely changed if at all, and Daphne also had transfigured back and forth her match. Sybil was about halfway through hers.

At the end of the lesson, Anthonie had heard Professor Rosemary congratulate Padma Patil and, surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson for having almost completely transfigured their matches into needles.

* * *

History of Magic was also with the Ravenclaws and was located in classroom 4F on the West Wing's first floor. The classroom was arranged a bit like a small auditorium, with long desks covering an entire row, each one more elevated than the one in front of it, and the walls had words engraved in them. That last bit of decoration, although creative and original, was a bit odd in Anthonie's mind, and would have better fitted an Ancient Runes classroom than a History one.

_Hogwarts: A History _said the West Wing had at first been the whole of the castle, and it showed because there were only five rows of seats in the classroom. This resulted in their class to fill half of them instead of a third.

The (late) Professor Cuthbert Binns was the only teacher to teach all seven years for a core class except for DADA, which was believed to be cursed, as well as being dead. But since he was a ghost, and not completely there between the ears, he was 'able' to teach every student taking the course. Anthonie put his Dictaquill and a scroll of parchment before reading his own history book on the British Isles. _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot was good and constructive, but as the ghost was quoting its fifth to twelfth chapters verbatim in repetition, the boy thought of maybe occupying his mind with something less mind-numbing.

But Anthonie didn't only read during the lessons, he also wrote a formal complaint about the teacher, his methods of teaching, and the official curriculum that only covered the fifteenth century through the eighteenth. He had taken the whole of the second half of his double period and the following lesson before he passed it around for other students to sign it.

His name was on top, written in his large and flowery calligraphy just like he had been taught (Hermione noted it was very Ancien Régime-esque, which he thanked her for). His friends followed suit, and every Ravenclaw except Elizabeth Runcorn signed. Lillian Moon and, surprisingly, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott signed the petition as well.

He had an intuition Runcorn wouldn't sign, but it was always worth a try. Anthonie immediately knew Malfoy and Parkinson wouldn't sign, and he doubted dumb, dumber, and dumb _au féminin_ knew how to write, even less so forming an opinion.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, at first sight, was only better than History of Magic because its teacher at least didn't try to give his students a lobotomy two times a week. The famous rumour about the Defence professorship post being cursed had even reached the foreign ears of Anthonie, and Professor Quirrell looked to be its victim already.

Hermione, whose first lesson of the year had been Defence with the Gryffindors, had said Professor Quirrell was a stuttering mess – Anthonie's words, not hers – but the Professor didn't seem that bad in person. He had a stutter, that much was true, but he simply seemed to have difficulty pronouncing 'p's, unlike what Hermione said about him stuttering at about every word. But who knew, that could have been the stress of the first lesson of the year aggravating his stutter.

But it turned out Professor Quirrell wasn't half bad at teaching his subject when the formalities were out of the way – and the garlic stench zoned out. The professor taught them the Wand-Lighting Charm, something most of them (even some Muggle-borns) already knew, as well as the many alternative uses of the simple charm such as scaring light-sensitive or less intelligent creatures, coded communication, control of intensity and even colours. The second he hadn't thought of, but all the others were well-known to the young pure-blood scion from the continent.

Professor Quirrell's apparent phobia of vampires was understandable from his tale of his journey in Transylvania. After all, who wouldn't be scared witless of being potentially hunted by an immortal and nearly invincible creature that could change itself into mist, use a wand, liked drinking blood, and was rated as more dangerous than a Five-X creature? But one would have thought a person such as Professor Quirrell would know better than to believe in Muggle mythos about garlic, crucifixes, sunlight, holy water, and wooden stakes killing or repelling vampires.

Oddly enough, the second half of the lesson was spent by Professor Quirrell presenting them this year's curriculum. First-years were to learn how to defend themselves, flee, or call for help in the case of Muggle attacks and non-magical animals.

Astronomy lessons were on Wednesday and divided into two parts. The first part was theoretical and done in a normal classroom on the fourth floor in the East Wing and was in the afternoon the same day they had their practical lessons from Midnight to one o'clock. The Slytherins were paired with the Hufflepuffs for that class and were taught by Professor Aurora Sinistra, who maybe had the best name to teach Astronomy except for Professor Orion _Moon_.

The Astronomy Tower's entrance was in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and every Wednesday night, the Slytherin first-years had to escalate at least twenty-five floors before getting to the accursed tower's observatory. First, they had to climb up at least four floors to get from Dungeon One to the ground floor in the _West_ Wing, but they had to get up another floor because the bridge connecting the two sections was on the first floor, and unless they wanted to go the long way by the Viaduct, they had to pass by there. From there, they got to the East Wing's ground floor and walked to the Transfiguration Courtyard to get up the seemingly infinite amount floors the tower had while passing the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first-years on their way back to their dormitories in their Ivory Towers. At least they needn't go up seven more floors on the way back.

The young, dark-skinned and dark-haired Professor Sinistra was kind enough to give them a moment to catch back their breath before they began. She taught them how to handle their enchanted bronze telescopes (fortunately enough, no Muggle-born had been moronic enough to buy a Muggle one, which would have been completely useless since they couldn't rival to the centuries-old magic developed to see as far as the edge of the galaxy with a simple telescope) and how to find the prominent 'landmarks' of the night sky before telling them more about Astronomy's role in the development of society and how important it was in certain areas of the other magical subjects it was like the alignment of stars and planets were to collect magical plants or how the cycle of the moon was important in the making of powerful potions.

Herbology lessons were every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons in the castle's greenhouses on the grounds for the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first-years, and they were taught by junior Head of Gryffindor, the young, energetic, brown-skinned, dark-haired, and turban-wearing Professor Abdul Kharal. Professor Kharal kindly and patiently guided them through the simple steps of basic handling and caring for both magical and mundane plants alike and gave them advice when a student would make a mistake.

But Anthonie wasn't as enjoyed by this class as some others were, and Daphne looked to be of the same opinion. As much as the young aristocrat knew and respected the fundamental importance of Herbology in many aspects of magic, that didn't change his aversion towards dirtiness. He was sweating, and his dragon-hide gloves were getting covered in dirt because you couldn't enchant the magic-resistant hide to repel filth and such without it costing you a pretty penny.

Anthonie had some consolation that his robes _were_ enchanted to do as such and that almost everyone else was sweating as much as him and most were as messy or even more than him. Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle were partly covered in dirt, but otherwise weren't sweating and looked to enjoy themselves. Tracey was also partly covered in dirt – considerably less so than the three residing peasants of Slytherin – and looked to have enjoyed the hands-on experience the most out of their quintet.

Anthonie resolved himself to study hard the theory and learn the spells they would be taught in the class before they were seen during the lessons so as to make the practical part easier, and hopefully earn some points for it. But he knew very well he would probably be far from the best in this class.

A dozen of Scouring Charms saw a group of four Slytherins and one Ravenclaw marching rapidly from Greenhouse One to the library to do just that. The first spell on their list was the Severing Charm. Particularly useful to cut roots, leaves, or dead branches… among other things.

* * *

It was Friday, and it meant the Slytherin first-years had double Potions with the Gryffindors in Laboratory 1A in Dungeon One. The students had to take their cauldrons to the classroom by themselves for their first lesson, after which their cauldrons would be put away in a storing space in the laboratory and would be given back to them by their teacher at the beginning of each lesson similarly to how their telescopes would be given back to them at the beginning of each practical Astronomy lesson. And for that, Anthonie was grateful the Slytherin common room was so close to the school's laboratories, making the way there much shorter than if he had to get down all the way from high up in a tower of the seventh floor to the Dungeons.

On the timetables the Slytherin first-years had received, it was indicated Professor Snape was their Potions teacher, in addition to it being said many times to them by their older housemates and even Professor Snow having said it the night of the Sorting Ceremony. But it wasn't him who greeted the Slytherins in the laboratory. Seated at the teacher's desk was the ever-smiling Professor Snow. The Slytherins seated themselves on the right side of the classroom, only filling around a quarter of the seats.

The Gryffindors arrived with their cauldrons as the end of the break was approaching and seated themselves on the left side of the classroom. Half of the seats were still vacant. As the distant sound of a bell ringing was heard, all the students were watching the white-haired man dressed in deep, dark red and white robes awkwardly. You could have heard a pin fall in the classroom before the smiling man got up from his seat and took the register.

"Beaudelaire, Anthonie?"

"Present," said Anthonie, holding his arm up.

"Black, Paracelsus…

"I know what you must be thinking," said Professor Snow after he finished calling the register and put the scroll away. "'Who is he?', 'Where is Professor Snape?', 'Why does he always smile?'" Some students laughed at that. "Well, I am Professor Snow, Head of the Potions department and Professor of Alchemy. The reason Professor Snape isn't here is that I will be the one teaching you today. Since I began teaching here, I've always taught the first-years' first Potions lesson of the Autumn term so as to set you on the right path, but also to see how much you will have progressed from now to your first Potions lesson of your fifth year. I can also use this occasion to tell you that the door to my office is always open to help you in Potions if you can't go see Professor Snape for any reason. Now, Potions…"

Professor Snow showed them the year's curriculum before telling them to pair themselves with someone else to make a simple boil-curing potion. Anthonie paired up with Daphne and Sybil with Tracey.

Making the potion was easy enough, only needing to read the instructions from the blackboard and following them to the letter. Professor Snow was going around and giving them all advice and answering questions. Oddly enough, Potions didn't feel as bad as Herbology in concerns of getting dirty. It seemed less likely for you to do so. You weren't handling dirt and repotting plants, you powdered horns with a pestle and mortar and sliced or cubed roots before putting them in your cauldron and stir it a given number of times. Somehow, the precision work seemed more clinical.

Anthonie and Daphne continued working in peaceful silence and seemed to progress well according to the instructions written on the blackboard. Close to the end, Professor Snow had been able to prevent Neville from doing a big mistake at the last second by vanishing the porcupine quills in the round-faced boy's hand before he dropped them in his cauldron above a still-ignited fire.

The professor told Neville to reread the instructions and to tell him what he'd done wrong. After which Professor Snow announced to the class as a whole about what would've happened if he hadn't intervened in time and that he would take points to any student he saw putting their porcupine quills before putting their cauldron off of the fire.

The rest of the lesson went uneventfully with no students making the porcupine quills mistake, and as such, no cauldron was melted, and no students were injured. Anthonie and Daphne's potion was a soft pink like the instructions told it should be when it was finished. The long-haired boy bottled some of it in a phial and stoppered it before identifying it and giving it to Professor Snow.

The professor told them they would receive their notes next class as the students noted the assignment, he'd given them for next week.

The group of four packed their things and went to the library. Along the way, their quartet met roads with another quartet, this one composed of boys only.

"Oh hello, Neville," said Anthonie who noticed the round-faced boy. "Eet has been a while. How was your week?"

"Get lost, we don't want to deal with you lot," said one of the other boys. The one with impossibly red hair and who had so many freckles he looked like he suffered from some kind of skin disease.

"Have you perchance changed your first name to 'Neville' seence the Sorting Ceremony, Weasley?" said Anthonie. "Because I wasn't addressing you either way."

Tracey snorted. "Can't say it suits him."

"Does anything?" added Daphne.

Weasley's cheeks started reddening when the bespectacled boy with messy black hair intervened.

"Hey, we don't want any problem," Potter said rather stupidly, putting a hand on the redhead's shoulder.

"Then you should tell your meenion. You and heem don't seem to be on the same page," replied Anthonie. "And eet wasn't _me_ who said to you to get lost. I was asking Neville, here, about his week, not that eet eez any of your business."

"It's been okay," Neville said, quietly.

"Did you want to come weeth us to the libraree? We were just going to do some homework."

"No, he can't!" spouted Weasley.

"He wasn't asking you, ginger," said Tracey.

"Sorry, we're heading to Defence," said Neville before anything else could be said. "Maybe after lunch."

"See you after lunch, then, Neville," said Anthonie, ignoring the other three other boys. The one with curly black hair and the grey eyes had stayed silent during the whole encounter. Good. So, Gryffindor wasn't only composed of hot-headed idiots minus one exception.

The two groups parted ways, and the quartet went on their way to the Music Room.

"What should we start with after Lunch, you think? History or Transfiguration?" asked Sybil while they walked to the Grand Staircase of the West Wing.

"Transfiguration," Daphne replied with certitude. "History isn't until Wednesday, and Transfiguration doesn't only consist of copying the textbook on some parchment."

"Transfiguration it is!" said Tracey.

They arrived at the Grand Staircase, and already they had to wait for a staircase to come at their landing.

"There has to be a faster way."

* * *

The Music Room on the second floor of the West Wing was a place where the four Slytherins liked to hang out before going to Lunch. The place wasn't too far from the Great Hall and it was always nice to listen to some music. For some reason, many Hufflepuffs liked to hang out there, which was the ideal spot for Sybil to meet with her brother and cousin on her father's side, both of which were Hufflepuffs. The room was perhaps the one where students from all houses got along the most and were at least civil if not friendly. Maybe it was the music that made all forget, if only for the instance of a song, house rivalries and divides.

The ceiling was high and held by exposed beams, and the floor was made of wooden planks, with no rugs at all. The stone walls were also barren, but there were many seats and instruments to play. At the end where there was a window was a small staircase leading to nowhere on which Professor Flitwick's Frog Choral would stand to practice.

Anthonie would normally play the harpsichord or his violin, with the girls sometimes accompanying him. When he played the harpsichord, Sybil would play the violin and Daphne the flute. Tracey wasn't much for _doing_ music and Hermione could play a bit of piano but felt complexed when compared to the three pure-bloods musical skills.

That was what happened normally, but now he was asking students to sign his petition of complaint against Professor Binns. Anthonie had been able to get every first-year Hufflepuffs, although Zacharias Smith he hadn't been completely sure about in the beginning. The eleventh in line to the Smith seat in the Wizengamot was perhaps the least Hufflepuff of the Hufflepuffs and Anthonie had thought his Hufflepuff blood was the only reason he got into his ancestor's house.

The badgers hadn't been completely sure about a Slytherin asking them for a favour (even worse, signing something), but Susan convinced them to do so after she read it carefully. _She_ didn't have second thoughts about him, and the silent distance between his group and Malfoy's clique was good enough for her.

Hannah Abbott, Ernest Macmillan and Sally-Anne Perks (Anthonie noted the petite Muggle-born girl had been hanging with them since the beginning of term) followed the example of their friend. Zacharias Smith seemed to hesitate for a moment but finally signed after Macmillan prompted him to. But the Muggle-borns didn't seem so keen to sign. They must have been told many things (none of them good) about Slytherins. Anthonie thought he would be left at that, but an idea came to his mind, remembering his mother interacting with other Ladies of the society.

First, you had to take a note of familiarity. "_Justin_," he called. Now you had to feign interest, or not, if you were interested, in something or someone close to them. "How eez Sir William? My uncle met heem during one of Her Majesty's Garden Parties this summer. He was particularlee touched by your father's latest donation, the one to St-Peter's Orphanage. Eet saved dozens of orphans from the streets; you know."

Everyone who heard was looking at him now. Good. Maybe he could dispel misconceptions made on him because of which colour his robes were.

"And exactly who is your uncle? If you don't mind my asking," the Muggle-born boy asked, sounding unsure.

"Your father would know heem as Sylvester Oldham, Earl of Dedham. But een the wizarding world – and I don't mean to brag – my uncle eez mostlee known as Her Majesty's Informant to the Magical Realm."

Something seemed to click in Justin's head, and after a minute he signed the petition. The other Muggle-borns followed his example.

The prefects present in the room signed his petition as well as the Head-Boy himself. Most of the upperclassmen in Ravenclaw present also signed their petitions, the only one not doing so were those that didn't want to deal with "slimy snakes". To his initial nineteen signatures, he had accumulated during his History lesson (including his own), Anthonie had been able to have a whomping _sixty_ signatures. The total was more than the whole current second-year cohort.

The Head-Boy and one of the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefects had even written testimonies about their personal experiences and thoughts about Professor Binns and the outdated curriculum. The former also made copies with the Doubling Charm in case something were to happen to the original copy. He would keep a copy and Anthonie would have one in his purse and one hidden in his trunk. You might call it paranoia, but Daphne would also have two copies.

* * *

**A.N.: By the way, 'y'all', your lack of faith is disturbing, so, like, leave a comment and subscribe (damn it, wrong platform). I mean, review and follow. See you all next time.**


	10. Settling In

**A.N.: Thanks to trotsky, Jackejsh and Patjeeson for their reviews and to everyone who favourited or followed this story. For those of you who are annoyed by Anthonie's accent, don't worry. This is the last chapter with him having it. Starting next chapter it'll be to faint for me to write it. As for those of you (Patjeeson) who might be wondering about a possible appearance by Grindelwald I'll be frank with and say I haven't written far enough to think about it. He will probably be more mentioned than if Anthonie was from the UK, but I still don't know if I'll give him a role in this story. I hope this is okay with you all. For me, Grindelwald's time has passed, and he knows it by the time of the 1990s.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Did we see any first-years ditch Flying lessons because they didn't need them? If not, I do not own Harry Potter.**

Anthonie had developed a routine in his first week at Hogwarts. He would go to bed at half-past nine in the evening and wake up at seven in the morning. He would shower and dress before going for breakfast in the Great Hall with the girls. After eating, they would get back to their dormitories and brush their teeth and join back after in the common room. From there, unless it was Friday, they would get closer to the classroom to their morning's first lesson and spend the rest of the morning break talking or practising spells in a nearby courtyard or unused classroom.

Between lessons and the time they spent in the Great Hall eating, the four Slytherins would switch between being at the Library, the Music Room, the Transfiguration Courtyard, or in an unused classroom on the fourth floor they and Hermione had somewhat claimed to themselves and used as a middle point between the Slytherin Dungeons (which the Muggle-born witch should avoid like the plague at any moment other than for her Potions lessons) and the upper floors (which were unofficially out-of-bounds for Slytherin students thanks to the Gryffindors and some collaborating Ravenclaws who were nicknamed as '_Collabos_' by Anthonie).

After dinner, the quintet would meet up in their unused classroom on the fourth floor until they had to go back to their respective common rooms before curfew at twenty-one o'clock. In the last minutes he had before he prepared himself to go to bed, Anthonie would write down some of the things that happened that day. When Saturday morning would come, he would pen his letter to his family from what he noted over the week, leaving many unimportant things out, of course. Later, in the afternoon, he would revise his letter and write a final version before sending Ilderia with his letter just before dinner.

Speaking of Ilderia. Anthonie always brought his magnificent barn owl everywhere with him. Owls used for wizarding mail could find anyone not somewhere specifically warded against them. As such, Anthonie would let her rest on his arm (covered by one of his dragon-hide gloves) and she would indicate him after he told her he wanted to find a given professor when he had to go to lessons or Madam Pince when he wanted to go to the Library. Luckily, all his professors were named on his timetable, and he needed only to ask for the librarian's name to the older Slytherins.

Madam Pince had been baffled at seeing an owl in her sacred domain and almost throttled Anthonie for bringing it in. But after negotiating with the old librarian – and promising to have her fired and arrested for assaulting him if she were to lay a single finger on him – it was arranged that Ilderia would be able to guide them in and be called back in once they left, but she would have to exit by the closest window once they were in.

Of course, Anthonie needn't do this for his Potions classroom since he'd been showed where it was on his first night in the school. This trick also didn't work on the dead. Apparently, you couldn't send letters to dead people. As such they had to head to the East Wing and from there ask their way to older students, ghosts, and portraits.

You would also think it would have stopped after the first week when Anthonie would know where his classrooms would be, but you'd be wrong. The boy had been warned too many times by older students about the castle's tendencies to change overnight, and he wasn't about to make such an easily avoidable mistake.

And so, between classes, the inhabitants of Hogwarts castle could see a Slytherin first-year student with long blond hair walking through the hallways with a white and yellow barn owl perched on their held out harm and indicating which way they should turn and which staircase they should go down or up. Many heads, physical, spectral, or painted, were turned and Anthonie and his Slytherin friends (and sometimes his Ravenclaw friend) were never late and always first to their lessons. Professor Flitwick had even awarded him one point for his ingenuity and creativity in finding his way to his classroom on the first day of classes.

The four Slytherins had also invited Neville to join them and Hermione in their study and practise sessions when he could during their time in the Library after lunch on Friday. The boy had been hesitant at first. On one side, Anthonie had helped him find his toad on the train and they were all more or less friendly with him, but on the other, his housemates had told him to not associate with Slytherins for multiple reasons.

Most of those 'reasons' were of course proven wrong when you put Hermione, a Muggle-born from another house, into the equation, but the timid boy was still undecided. They'd been able to get a promise out of him he would meet them on Friday and Saturday afternoons in the Library each week, though.

During their study session on Saturday following their first week, it had turned out Neville's preferred subject was Herbology, and that he'd always had an interest in the subject. But Neville wasn't just casually interested, he was passionate. And he seemed to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of everything plant related. The kind Anthonie had for European history and geography and Hermione had for when it came for her to memorise entire books.

Anthonie suspected the bushy-haired Muggle-born witch had an eidetic memory or something akin to it. Someone with a normal memory couldn't possibly remember so much to the letter. Grandfather Friedrich had an eidetic memory, that was because of him Anthonie knew the term. It was also how Lord Grimmen had been able to study every aspect of magic since he graduated from school while playing the politician in both the wizarding and Muggle world.

The first lesson of the class Anthonie dreaded the most came on Thursday the twelfth of September. He was, of course, speaking of Flying lessons. Many students – most of them boys, Anthonie was ashamed to admit – had been insupportable since the Welcoming Feast, talking about flying on brooms and whining about the first-years' broom restriction.

Draco Malfoy has been counting outrageously ridiculous and obviously false stories of adventures he allegedly had while flying on his broomstick. The most insulting to his intelligence had been the one about him escaping some kind of Muggle military flying contraception called a heyleecopter, or something like that. He didn't even stop himself from laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it when he counted it one morning in the Great Hall.

Anthonie knew how to fly on a broomstick, of course. At his great dismay, the French boy had learned the skill in his youth and the man who taught him, his father, had qualified him as average. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Little did you know, that flying broomsticks had been rated by the ICW as the most dangerous method of aerial transportation in the entire world, second only to flying carpets. That study had also included Muggle devices. So, what was that saying when even the Muggles were able to _fly_ more safely than wizards?

* * *

The Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch, was an athletic, middle-aged witch with ashen hair that looked to be constantly pulled back by the wind and orange-yellow eyes giving her a hawk-like look. She had made the Slytherin and Gryffindor first-years try to summon the lined-up on the ground school's ancient-looking brooms in their hands and had shown them how to safely hold it.

She'd gone around to judge their grip and correcting them if necessary. Madam Hooch had judged his handle as good, if a little too tight, before continuing with the others. After having passed everyone, she made them fly. But before she could blow her whistle to signal them to kick the ground so as to take off, Neville had accidentally kicked the ground in his anxiety and started getting up in the air.

The round-faced boy fell on the ground from high in the air after losing control of his broom and had broken his wrist as a result. Madam Hooch warned them to not fly while she accompanied Neville to the Hospital Wing or else, they would be expelled.

"What an idiot," said Malfoy after he was sure Hooch and Neville were out of earshot.

He and his goons as well as Lillian Moon, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott then began laughing and making fun of Neville for him falling. Pansy Parkinson was clearly laughing louder than she would have, it was embarrassing how forced it was. Anthonie and the others stood on the side, silent. They were making sure they weren't seen as part of them.

They continued like that until Parvati Patil told them to shut up. To which Pansy replied how she hadn't seen her as the cry-baby type. Anthonie didn't intervene until Malfoy picked a large marble filled with white smoke – Neville's Remembrall. It was when Malfoy said he would hide the toy that Anthonie spoke.

"Draco, we mustn't take what isn't ours." He had made sure of pronouncing that correctly. But in doing so he sounded like he was speaking to a young child.

"Or what?" replied Malfoy. "You're going to tell a teacher?"

"I needn't to." Anthonie gave a side-glance towards the Gryffindors. "But I don't theenk Lord Malfoy would appreciate from his son and heir to act as a common _thief_. After all, the Traditionalists wouldn't like to have someone weeth kleptomaniac tendencies to lead them een the Wizengamot assembly. Wouldn't you think?"

Malfoy's cheeks turned the slightest bit of pink at being called out. But he couldn't just lash out in front of the Gryffindors, and Anthonie wasn't going against the rules by stopping him of going against the rules. And in front of witnesses.

"And who do you think you are to call Draco a thief," said Pansy in her usual insupportable and loud entitled voice.

Anthonie raised one eyebrow with practiced ease before looking back at the other blond. "Do you understand what this _animal _is trying to say? I only seem to hear screeching." Pansy's face turned to a vile shade of red while most of the Gryffindors were laughing at his jab. Anthonie showed a slightly smug look before speaking again. "Give the Remembrall back and _try _not breaking the rules, would you?"

He held out his hand for Malfoy to give the Remembrall. Malfoy did just that, and Anthonie threw it in the Gryffindors' general direction. It was supposed to be a somewhat weak throw for an easy catch, but the Remembrall slipped from his hand and went faster than he had wanted. With almost superhuman reflexes, Potter caught the ball with one hand, and everyone went silent at that show of sheer talent.

Madam Hooch came back later, and the lesson continued to where it left out. Those raised in the wizarding world showed more talent than those raised in the Muggle world; Potter being the exception. And the boys seemed to show more interest than the girls; Anthonie being the exception. Malfoy, Potter, Weasley, and Zabini were by far the best at flying and Anna Hughes, the smallest girl in Gryffindor and a Muggle-born, had the most difficulty. But she was helped by Parvati Patil.

They did some exercises before being allowed to fly freely at the end, but Anthonie wasn't really attentive because he was just waiting to go back on the ground. After they were dismissed, their quartet went to the Hospital Wing to see how Neville was doing. Their arrival coincided with the clumsy boy's dismissal by Madam Pomfrey, and so their group went to the Library where they were later joined by Hermione.

* * *

The second week of classes had gone well for Anthonie and the lessons had progressed in a way similar to the previous week, with the Flying lesson in addition. But Potions was almost night and day between Professors Snow and Snape.

Professor Snape had singled out Potter twice in the first ten minutes of the lesson. The first one was just a simple comment on Potter's famous status when he took the register which could have been taken as a way to alleviate the tense mood in the classroom after the professor's quite dramatic entrance… if it had been intended as such.

Professor Snape had then given them their notes for the simple boil-curing potions they had brewed last week. Anthonie and Daphne had received full marks, and everything was going as it should have if you forgot Snape's comment during the register. Professor Snape had announced them they would study the Wiggenweld Potion before singling out Potter again.

"Potter! What are the effects of the Wiggenweld Potion?"

The bespectacled boy looked surprised at being asked a question before he thought for a while.

"I don't know, Professor."

"Didn't even read your books after two weeks into term, did you?" said Professor Snape, a vicious smirk on his lips. "You'd be well advised, Potter, to know that you won't receive any special treatment in this school because of the feats you _allegedly _did before you came here."

Anthonie thought he heard Lavender Brown gasp from the Gryffindor side of the classroom at their professor's words. They took notes on the Wiggenweld Potion and its ingredients for the rest of the double period, with Professor Snape regularly asking questions to make sure they were following. He'd sometimes call on Potter and make snide remarks when he was unable to answer. He then would let someone who had got their hands up to answer, usually Anthonie, Malfoy, or Nott, and give points when they answered correctly.

Professor Snape hadn't let any Gryffindors answer any of his questions until he asked about the role of Sloth brain mucus in the potion. No one had got their hands up. No one except Fay Dunbar, a quiet Gryffindor girl. The Potions Master was forced to let her answer his question, which she answered correctly. The professor had been silent for a short while before reluctantly awarding her a single point.

Some of the Gryffindors looked to have wanted to object at the difference of points awarded, noticeably a certain red-headed and overly freckled boy. But luckily for them, wiser heads stopped them from drawing the displeasure of their Potions professor.

Professor Snape assigned them for homework an essay on the uses and effects of Salamander blood before dismissing them. The four Slytherins packed and went to the Library, with Neville following them. Once arrived, the five of them started on their Potions homework. Anthonie wanted it done quickly because he wanted to start to practice the Feather-Weight Charm he'd read about, but he wouldn't rush his homework. He'd even added a small part in his introduction that Muggles had used (regular) Salamander blood in some of their remedies and other healing concoctions.

* * *

_Knock knock knock _

"Enter," said the calm voice of Professor Snow.

Anthonie entered the office.

A dark, ornate desk was at the centre of the room. Behind it and the wizard seated at it was a large, lit fireplace and four portraits currently lacking their subject over it. The wall on Anthonie's right was filled with bookshelves, one of them with closed window doors and locked by chains. The wall on his left was occupied with cabinets and shelves filled with all kinds of glass pots and jars containing potions ingredients, but also some live bugs and small beasts like fire Salamanders and Ashwinders.

Anthonie's attention had been taken by the single pickled Mandrake root in one of the jars before his head of house drew it back from the vaguely human-like wrinkled plant.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" said Professor Snow, looking himself at the jar the boy was staring at. "So useful, once mature. They can cure someone from the most powerful curse, and yet they are seen by most as a simple plant not worth growing yourself when you could just buy them at exorbitant prices should a need for them arise.

"But I do not believe you came to me for me to lecture you about the content of my personal storage. So how can I help you, M. Beaudelaire?"

The old wizard indicated the young boy to seat on one of the black cushioned chairs in front of his desk, and Anthonie complied.

"I was wondering, sir, eef eet was possible for a student to be exempted from Flying lessons?" said Anthonie.

Professor Snow's white, bushy eyebrows got up a bit in surprise. "Well, I'll admit that I haven't heard this request often in my thirty years of teaching. And certainly not from a boy. Is there any particular reason for this, M. Beaudelaire?"

"Well, to begin, I hardlee think I need more Flying lessons than the eentroductory one. I was taught by my father how to fly on a broomstick, like most wizarding-raised children. I also have no eenterest een spending additional time on the second most dangerous method of flight, not when I can fly with safer methods and have no eenterest in broom-racing and Quidditch."

"Safer methods, you say?" asked Professor Snow. A twinkle seemed to appear in his cold blue eyes.

"The Feather-Weight Charm eez only a second-year level charm, sir," Anthonie explained. "And I'm sure my owl wouldn't mind holdeeng my hand weeth one of her paws if I weighed half or less of my current weight."

"I'm sure she would," said Professor Snow. His voice sounded proud, and his ever-lasting smile seemed genuine instead of only being the result of a physical disability. "And I imagine you could practice this charm during this free time made by your exemption from this class."

"I alreadee started practiceeng yesterday, een fact," said Anthonie. "I can onlee reduce my weight by a sixth for now, but practeece makes perfect, as they say."

"Indeed," replied Professor Snow. "Well, I will speak with the Headmaster about your request, and I don't see why it wouldn't be warranted. But I want to warn you that he could ask of you to complete some kind of test so as to see if you can put your skills where your words lay."

The long-haired blond nodded before being dismissed. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of a test, but it couldn't be something too complex. It was to be exempted from a Flying class for first-years. For beginners, not for a professional Quidditch player.

* * *

Anthonie was putting lots of practice in the Feather-Weight Charm as well as all the spells he read about or saw in his lessons between his homework. Casting spells seemed easier and less draining as he practised more, and Transfiguration spells began to slowly take less time for him to complete.

He still hadn't found much time to train his power like Grandfather Friedrich had taught him except for the times he practised the Levitation Charm with the girls or when they saw the spell in Charms class. Lifting his feather was child's play for him, and he'd tried to lift his desk in the lesson with some success while Pansy Parkinson was trying and failing to make her feather float by another force than the wind caused by the rapid swinging of her arms.

Charms had definitely and by far become Anthonie's favourite and best class. The long-haired boy would see himself bringing points for his house by the dozen during each lesson for answering Professor Flitwick's theoretical questions and for his proficiency of the Charms they saw in class.

But despite how advanced Anthonie was in the subject for his year, the cheery Professor Flitwick was always able to teach something to the young French aristocrat by putting some of his personal experiences and insights into his lectures the students wouldn't be able to read in a book and as a result, made the class that much better.

The practical aspect of Transfiguration was _dominated _by Hermione and Daphne in their class. The two girls were assigned by Professor Rosemary to transfigure small chunks of clay into similarly sized bricks while the rest of the class was still trying to transfigure small iron pipes into wooden sticks or matchsticks into needles. Yes, after one month of lessons, some of them were still unable to complete their first assignment.

But Anthonie made up for his lack of raw talent into Transfiguration by answering theoretical questions in class and by putting as many details as possible in his written assignments without getting too much over the length limit. Hermione initially seemed to struggle with that last aspect. The Muggle-born girl had given a ten feet assignment at the beginning of their second lesson when they had been assigned only four feet of parchment, and the theory was at times so advanced it was barely related to the subject at hand.

Fortunately, Professor Rosemary had taken the girl aside after their second lesson to explain her about the length instructions. It was completely noted and given full notes with extra points. But Hermione's assignments considerably dropped in length after she cut her footnotes and bibliography, which had been said to be unnecessary for her to write down. Now they were just a bit longer than Anthonie's assignments and Hermione did her best to not stray off the topic of the assignments.

The race for house points in Transfiguration by answering questions was more ferocious and populated in the joint Slytherin-Ravenclaw class than the Slytherin-Hufflepuff Charms class. In Charms, the balance was heavily in favour of Slytherin with Anthonie answering almost every one of them with Daphne, Sybil, Susan, Ernest Macmillan, and Theodore Nott sometimes being chosen to answer. But in Transfiguration, the two houses of the intellect were figuratively waging war so as to win the most points.

Ravenclaw's usual ones were Hermione, Padma Patil, Terry Boot, Amanda Brocklehurst, Anthony Goldstein, and Prenecka Mayer-Pacheco. While Slytherin was outnumbered with only Anthonie, Daphne, Theodore Nott, and, surprising most of all, Pansy Parkinson who seemed to be one of the bests in Transfiguration in the Slytherin first-years. Professor Rosemary didn't seem to mind the energy and competitiveness that fuelled the participation in her class. If anything, she seemed amused.

Professor Kharal seemed to be somewhat thinking the same thing as Professor Rosemary in concerns to his Slytherin-Ravenclaw first-year class if a bit more bewildered. It was probably just a coincidence, but it all started with Hermione.

Professor Kharal had announced they would study the Devil's Snare that day, and as a way to start the lesson as he usually did, the Herbologist asked if anyone knew about the plant. Many had got their hands up to answer, including Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, and Tracey. The latter rarely bothered to answer questions if not directly asked by a professor, and the others would only dare to do so in Herbology in which they had some modicum of knowledge. But their professor had chosen Hermione, and in true Hermione fashion, the witch started her answer by naming the plant both by its common name and scientific name. Just like in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

Hermione had been awarded five points for her correct and in-depth answer. But the thing was no one had gotten more than two points for answering correctly to a question through the whole month of September in Herbology. So, everyone who would answer questions in Herbology partly for the points would name the plant seen in class by both its common and scientific names. Some gossip their particular joint class must've been in the Teacher's Lounge.

On another note, Herbology was getting more interesting as magic started to be introduced in plant-caring and handling. Professor Kharal had taught them the Severing Charm and was surprised if not shocked at how many of them already knew and were even proficient at it. If Anthonie had been in their professor's place, he would have been worried about that fact. Anthonie had also become proficient with the Scouring Charm along Hermione and Tracey, so getting dirty during the lessons became less of a worry for the boy.

Astronomy was advancing at a normal pace, and Anthonie had grown to appreciate the beauty of the night's sky despite the late hour. Their first two periods were free anyway in the morning following the lesson, so it wasn't that much of a problem.

Sybil had been the best of their quartet in the subject, but even she was put to shame by Sally-Anne Perks, a petite Muggle-born girl with mousy hair. Her father was some sort of Muggle erudite studying everything visible in the night's sky. It had come up during one of their lessons when Professor Sinistra had talked about the advances Muggles had made in Astronomy, and their professor had even said the Muggles had sent men on the moon as well as people in 'space stations'.

But surely their teacher had only misread or misinterpreted her information because how could they have sent someone on the moon? Wizards had mapped the entire Milky Way and explored three other worlds, but they were still as far from sending someone in space since they invented the flying broomstick.

History of Magic was dull as ever. Professor Binns lectured from start to finish of their lessons, not even bothering to make a roster call. He asked no questions and it was overall the calmest class of the joint Slytherin-Ravenclaw first-years. Anthonie's petition accompanying his official complaint was getting nice and long with names. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws signed the petition, including most of their Quidditch teams, surprising as it was for the 'jocks' to have an interest in their studies.

Anthonie had been able to get Neville, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil to sign his petition who presented him to Fay Dunbar, who herself also signed, but he otherwise didn't try to approach the other first-years in that house. Some of the older Gryffindors hanging in the Music Room accepted to sign the petition, while others rudely told him to go away and try to bother someone else. Still, he was proud to count the prefect Percy Weasley among his signatures, who had been strangely polite for an upperclassman in Gryffindor.

Gemma Farley and some of her friends signed the petition, along some scions of Moderate Houses. But Anthonie had a feeling his petition wouldn't be well-received by most of his housemates, particularly the older ones who meddled in their families' politics.

But all that didn't stop History of Magic from becoming a three-way race with Anthonie, Hermione, and Prenecka Mayer-Pacheco to see who could get the longest essay of the class. If there was one thing Anthonie couldn't reproach the ghost, it was his dedication to note the assignments he received, and he gave extra points to the three of them for going beyond the demands while still handing their work in time. Anthonie was grateful for Hermione to teach him how to do endnotes and a bibliography, which helped him catch back the two Muggle-born witches.

At one point, Daphne had told him and Hermione to stop being ridiculous in their History assignments lengths and that their little game was becoming 'undignified'. But both of them brushed it off since it awarded bonus points.

"We'll be on the train back home for Yule and you two will already have full marks for the year in History," Tracey had joked, causing her friends to laugh.

Sybil had taken Anthonie's twenty feet long assignment to see how far it reached. Professor Binns only gave them one assignment each week, which contributed to the ridiculous lengths of his homework in that subject. "How many bonus points can you get anyway? There has to be a limit."

No one knew the answer to that question.

DADA with Professor Quirrell was very much easy and had developed a pattern. They would study some dangerous beasts and creatures, which was what their professor specialised during his sabbatical year, for some time before following the actual first-year curriculum and learn about the dangers a young witch or wizard could meet in the Muggle world and learn some spells to help with that.

It was during those Muggle-dangers lessons that the Slytherin-Hufflepuff joint class learned the Knockback Jinx (_Flipendo_) and the Locking Charm (_Colloportus_). The Locking Charm was easy for Anthonie to learn and master after having already learned the Unlocking Charm.

Finally, Potions didn't change that much with Professor Snape. They would have a double period of theory one week and get homework on a potion, and they would have another theoretical period the following week followed a period of potion-brewing. They would give their potions to Professor Snape at the end of the lesson, and he would assign them some reading on their next potion.

That was how the class was structured, but it was more than that in person. Professor Snape seemed to heavily favour the Slytherins, and like Gemma Farley had said at the Welcoming Feast, hated the Gryffindors with a passion. But for some reasons, Professor Snape seemed to particularly have it for Potter and to a lesser extent Black. Neville was also one of the Potions Master's recurrent targets, but that was caused to the boy's habit of making mistakes while brewing.

Professor Snape would always look at Neville, sure he would explode the classroom if he didn't. The junior Head of Slytherin also liked to criticise the students. He was more partial to the Slytherins but wasn't afraid of doing so. The only one who seemed like they could do no wrong in their professor's eyes was Draco Malfoy. Professor Snape would even regularly compliment the blond's skills and tell the class as a whole how well he was doing. The only Gryffindor who didn't suffer Snape's cutting remarks was Fay Dunbar and whoever was pairing with her.

* * *

_Saturday, 14 September_

"Beaudelaire, Professor Dumbledore said he wants to see you. He said you would know where to find him."

"Thank you, Steilson," Anthonie replied to the sixth-year prefect.

Some of the younger students who heard cooed at the long-haired boy.

"Getting in trouble, are we?" said Blaise Zabini, smirking.

"Shut up, Zabini," replied Anthonie. "And for your _information_, I am not een trouble. I have an arrangement weeth the Headmaster."

The laughing and cooing immediately stopped.

"What kind of arrangement?" one girl in second-year asked.

"The kind that should give me one additional hour of free time come next week eef everything goes accordeeng to plan." Anthonie got up and exited the common room.

Guided by his owl, the long-haired boy found himself going up the Grand Staircase until he noticed he was going above the fourth floor.

« _Are you really sure Professeur Dumbledore is this way?_ »

The barn owl sitting on his extended arm nodded at the boy and indicated its head towards a staircase going higher.

« _If you really are sure._ »

The boy took out his wand of beech and cast the strongest Feather-Weight Charm he could on himself. Now wasn't time to deal with the pride of his Elder wood and Phoenix feather wand, and he'd need to get to the Headmaster the fastest way possible. That way turned out to be flying by being pulled by his owl.

What had been an obvious use for the charm to Anthonie had apparently taken the girls by surprise when he first talked about it with them. It was true it wasn't mentioned in any of the books they had read, but could this be really surprising when witches and wizards charmed all kinds of things for the same goal?

Now less than half his original weight, Anthonie was zooming through the hallways in direction of the Headmaster's location while being pulled by the arm by his avian familiar. Multiple portraits expressed their shock at seeing someone – a student, no less – flying through the halls at great speed. The young French aristocrat, fortunately, didn't meet any living person while his owl directed him and found himself facing a gargoyle on the seventh floor in a question of fewer than five minutes.

Ilderia let Anthonie's feet find their way back on the floor, and the young wizard undid the charm on him. Ilderia indicated the gargoyle, and a moment later it let way to a tall, wizened old man with long silvery-white hair and beard dressed in regal purple robes and wearing golden half-moon glasses.

"Good evening, M. Beaudelaire," the old wizard said. "So glad you were able to make it."

He then looked at the boy's extended arm. "So, this would be the owl I've heard so much about since the start of term?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore," answered Anthonie, petting the said owl. "I was told you wanted to see me."

"Oh, yes. Please follow me."

Anthonie followed Professor Dumbledore up a spiral staircase and entered in the Headmaster's office through a wooden door. The piece was high-ceilinged and circular. The first half of the office had many small tables covered by trinkets or even a small tower-shaped and phial-filled cabinet. The walls were occupied by glass-doors cabinets filled with books and ancient-looking and shiny objects. Above those, the walls were completely filled by portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses of old, going as high that some weren't lit by the candles or fireplace's light.

The second half was on a stone dais and separated by high arches. A magnificent, medieval-like dark oak desk stood in the middle of the elevated floor with an ancient, plushie armchair behind it. Anthonie had only seen a desk like this one in his great-grandfather's office at Grimmen Castle, with the panel reserved to write more elevated and leaned. There was a large, stand-in fireplace with many silver and glass trinkets making beeping or ticking sounds or puffing small rings of smoke on its mantelpiece.

Professor Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk, and Anthonie did so in one of the small armchairs facing it.

"Professor Snow told me about your desire to be exempted from Flying lessons, as well as for why you want so," Professor Dumbledore started. "I must admit it isn't something I have heard often, for a first-year student asking to not attend a class that amounts for most to play a game and have the chance to be outside and get some fresh air.

"Now, seeing as your motives for being exempted of this class are perfectly legitimate, and your backing evidence even more so." The Headmaster chuckled. "I don't see anything that would stop you from doing so. I believe you when you say that you were thought how to fly, and if what Professor Snow told me about your meeting is true, then I don't think you will have to limit yourself to a mere broomstick to rejoin the skies."

Professor Dumbledore looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"And I see that curfew isn't getting any further. I wish you a good evening M. Beaudelaire, and I hope our next meeting will be under just as good circumstances."

"Good evening, Professor," said Anthonie.

Anthonie got up, Ilderia now resting on his left shoulder, and he left the office, closing the door behind. He got down the stairs, and the gargoyle let him pass and get to the hallway.

Anthonie felt proud of himself. He'd been able to get rid of a frankly useless, dangerous, and uninteresting class to the profit of an additional free hour. And he could now use that free hour to practice the Levitation Charm. He hadn't told anyone, but one of his motives to not have to attend the class was so he didn't have to see how much better Malfoy was than him at flying, no matter how useless it was.

"_Locomotor Mortis!_"

Anthonie was lucky he hadn't had the time to take the first step down the stairs, because otherwise he probably would have tumbled down and possibly broke his neck or get a concussion. For now, he simply had fallen on the stone floor with his legs immobilised and stuck to each other.

Anthonie looked around to see who had attacked him. Three people were in the hallway, wands in hand. They were dressed in Gryffindor robes, but further identification was made impossible due to their pulled-down hoods. Anthonie didn't waste more time than necessary to examine them, though, and started casting at them.

"_Everte Statum! Petrificus Totalus!_"

But Anthonie's efforts to counterattack were stopped with quickly cast Shield Charms.

"Look at what we have here, boys," said the one in the middle, his voice was clearly the one of a boy. "Looks like a Slytherin in a place they shouldn't be."

"Looks like a girl," said the shortest, also a boy, by his voice.

"That it does," the first one replied.

Anthonie had tried to make his legs move again while he cast three Stinging Jinxes at the Gryffindors, but they were also met with Shield Charms.

"And she's got fangs, it looks like," the last one said. His attackers were all boys, it seemed.

"_Finite!_" said Anthonie, pointing his wand at his legs.

"_Furnunculus!_" cast the third one, but his Pimple Hex was dodged by Anthonie, who rolled.

On his feet now, Anthonie was dodging every spell thrown his way with all the flexibility and agility he developed in his dance and ballet lessons. But it was a lost battle, Anthonie couldn't block his attackers' spells, only dodge, and the few he was able to throw their way were either blocked or completely missed their target as he tried to dodge and run. After a while, the first attacker hit him with a Body-Bind Curse, and Anthonie found himself back on the floor, facing the ground. His whole body petrified, and his limbs stuck along his body. His mouth was clamped shut, and the only thing he could move was his eyelids as he blinked his eyes. He was lucky his nose didn't break when he hit the floor.

The three older boys then proceeded to cast a multitude of spells at him. Pimple Hexes and Stinging Jinxes were the most used, as well as some Tickling Charms. His skin was red from the Stinging Jinxes and covered in pimples. He hurt everywhere but felt fingers tickling him all over his body. And yet, he couldn't scream to hopefully get someone to help him or to simply express his pain.

The Pimple Hexes had burned as the pimples got out of his skin, and the Stinging Jinxes had felt like being flagged by a leather belt where they landed. His attackers eventually stopped casting spells at him and got closer. One of them – he didn't know which – pulled his hair so as to turn him on his back.

"Listen, you slimy snake," he said, it was the first one. "We don't want any of you dungeon freaks up in our floors and polluting the air with your dark magic. Having to share classes and eat in the same room as you lot his already too much –,"

Footsteps could be heard getting closer.

"Next time you dare to get up here you won't get away as easily," he finished quickly, his voice now a hiss.

A last Stinging Jinx was thrown his way, and one of his attackers kicked him in the ribs before leaving. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, and he had difficulty breathing. He didn't know how much time passed, but it seemed like an eternity for him before someone found him. The pimples all over his body seemed to burn through his skin while the Tickling Charms were still working.

The person who found him, a girl in Ravenclaw robes with dirty-blonde hair and a blue badge, undid the Body-Bind Curse on him.

"_AAAAAHHHHH!_" Anthonie screamed, now able to express his pain, anger, fear, and sadness.

In general, a Tickling Charm would make someone laugh, but the ghost fingers he felt all over his body had only aggravated his pain as he felt his pimples and his now red skin being touched. His attackers had either been geniuses in torture, or they didn't know what the combination of spells they hit him with did to him. A small part of his mind felt lucky they didn't feel bloodthirsty, because they could have very well cut his throat here and there with a simple Severing Charm, and no one could have stopped them.

The more complex Counter Charm the prefect had cast on him, _Finite Incantatem_, had dispelled the Body-Bind and the Tickling Charms, but the pain from the Stinging Jinxes and, most importantly, the burning pimples, was still there.

The girl had tried to calm him, to some effect, but Anthonie wasn't able to explain anything to her of what had happened through his crying and sniffing. The girl had been forced to stun him.

* * *

Anthonie woke up in an unfamiliar bed at the feeling of an electric-like jolt going through his body. Everything, or almost everything, around him seemed to be white. Sheets, ceiling, walls, floor, shelves, cabinets, curtains, beards, his robes. There was a smell of antiseptic potions in the air, and Anthonie noticed he wasn't alone.

First, on his right, was Madam Pomfrey, the Head Mediwitch. She had greying mousy hair under a white veil and was dressed in burgundy and white robes, with the Healers insignia (a single snake rolled around a winged sceptre over a red cross on a white shield) on her apron's torso. Other than the Mediwitch were also Professors Dumbledore, Snow, and McGonagall.

"What eez happeneeng?" asked Anthonie, his voice feeble.

He noticed he wasn't in his school robes anymore, but in white, hospital ones. His skin wasn't red or covered in pimples anymore. His throat was sore like he'd screamed a lot, and his mouth was dry like he had been made drinking something while unconscious. His eyes were heavy like he had cried a lot.

"Don't push yourself too much, M. Beaudelaire," said Madam Pomfrey, who placed a second pillow under him so he could see them all better.

"It is with great regret that I have to tell you that you were found petrified and victim of many other jinxes and hexes on the seventh floor by Miss Clearwater shortly after our meeting ended," explained the Headmaster.

His voice was deep, kind, calm, and soothing, a welcome change from the ones of his attackers. His expression was neutral, like most of the other adults were, but his eyes seemed different than during their meeting. Like a light that had been there before was now absent from them.

"M. Beaudelaire," said Professor McGonagall. Her voice was calmer than the long-haired boy had ever heard from her, and every sign of sternness was gone. "Can you explain to us what happened that led Miss Clearwater to find you alone in a hallway, clearly the victim of an attack?"

Anthonie recounted to the adults everything that happened after he exited the Headmaster's office, from the Leg-Locker Curse to his counterattack, his attempt at escaping, and the torture his attackers had put him through. He didn't know what their faces looked like, but he knew from their robes they were Gryffindor boys from second to potentially fourth-year. The three of them were Caucasian, for what little percentage of the Gryffindor boys it disqualified, and broad-shouldered.

"I doubt this attack was planned," said Professor Snow, who stroked his short beard. "It's not like it was a regular path used by Slytherins where you could just wait to ambush someone, and the fact their robes still identified their house most likely means they were simply passing and only took the time to pull their hoods down to hide their faces when they saw the opportunity to attack.

"I hope you will make a search in your house to see which of your boys attacked one of my pupils, Minerva," the Head of Slytherin's tone sounded nearly accusatory. "It is one thing to simply throw a dungbomb or enchant someone's shows to sing at each step taken, but it's another to blatantly attack a defenceless first-year who was only minding his own business, unlike some of your own."

That last part seemed like a jab that Anthonie wasn't privy to its meaning, so he let it go.

Anthonie had been given back his things, and Madam Pomfrey used some really useful Switching Spells to change the long-haired boy from his white hospital gown to his black and green school robes. Anthonie was dismissed by the Mediwitch, and Professor Snow escorted him to the Slytherin common room.

Ilderia was nowhere to be seen, but Anthonie wasn't mad at the owl for escaping after he was initially attacked. He wouldn't want to get her injured, and she couldn't very well defend him against older students.

It was almost curfew when Anthonie and his head of house arrived at the common room's entrance in Dungeon One.

"Thank you, Professor," said Anthonie before opening the common room's entrance. "Cockatrice."

He ignored everyone in the common room and went straight for his dormitory. He brushed his teeth, tied his hair, washed his face, and changed in his nightwear once there before going to bed immediately.

* * *

**A.N.: Not gonna lie, the fight was a bit inspired from **_**The Brightest Witch and the Darkest House**_** by Belial666. Leave a review if you liked or just want to comment about this chapter and remember follow this story if you want to know what happens next.**


	11. Who doesn't know Nicolas Flamel?

**A.N.: Sorry for the lack of update last week, I was caught between the midterms and my concentration problems. I also had a bit of writer's block because I didn't know how to write a scene that dealt with the plot. But I think I got it right, or at least not wrong. I'm going to be honest with you and tell you there won't be an update next week. I was only able to make this chapter publishable because it's my reading week and I had a bit more time. I'd like every one of you who reviewed, favourited(?), and followed this story since it means I am not a complete failure. Shoutout to Guest for correcting me about Anthonie's pianist skills and to matgopack for his two reviews who were filled with appreciated criticism. If any of you do not like Ron's comportment in this chapter, read until the end because it will be explained. Anthonie and friends are introduced to the main plot and I change the number of Quidditch matches so as to even things out. Our main character also deals with what happened in the last chapter.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Do we see things that happen outside of Great Britain? If not, I do not own Harry Potter. **

_16 September 1991_

_Zadar, Croatia (Wizarding Austria)_

_BOOM_

The sound and shockwave caused by the explosion woke up Terezija from her sleep. She had known about the Muggle soldiers attacking the city earlier in the day, but she didn't think they would bombard the city. The sexagenarian witch went to look out the window.

The street was aflame. It was nothing like she had seen before, and she had witnessed the armies of Grindelwald march over the Balkans in her youth. Her house was intact, thanks to the small protective enchantments she was allowed to put over despite living in a Muggle zone. The house of her neighbour on the other side of the street was crumbled, only the ground floor of the three storey-tall building was still standing, and it looked like it wouldn't for long.

She couldn't stay here, the enchantments on her house could fail at any moment. She could hear other explosions go out in the distance. Immediately, Terezija had her wand in hand and put a robe over her nightgown and shoes on. With a wave of her wand, a suitcase got out of her wardrobe and opened itself on her bed. Another wave and incantation made some of her drawers open with some clothes going into her suitcase. Two dress from her wardrobe followed suit. She took her handbag and put all the money and jewellery she had. Her suitcase didn't have charms on it, but her handbag did, fortunately. Rings, necklaces, her grandmother's tiara and her late husband's silver pocket watch. She wouldn't be able to spare anything –

_BOOM_

That explosion was from right next door. Terezija ran from her bedroom and got down the stairs, the chandelier overseeing the staircase shaking from the tremors. Where could she go? She couldn't go anywhere else in Dalmatia, the whole country was at war with the Serbs. Slovenia? She had never gone there, so she couldn't apparate there. Maybe she could go live with Aunt Letizia, just for the time of recuperating her bearings. She could settle somewhere in Vienna. But for now, she had to apparate out of the city, or she'd be killed by those Muggle missiles.

Just for precaution, though, she cast the strongest Shield and Fire-Freezing Charms she could on herself. She got out of the house… but she couldn't apparate. What was going on!? Why would have someone put an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the perimeters? Even more importantly was how? It was Muggles who were attacking, not wizards. Unless…

No. She didn't have time to think about that, she had to escape. Disillusioning herself, Terezija ran north. She had to go through a line of fire to get out of her street and she mentally patted herself for thinking of casting a Fire-Freezing Charm on herself. But her luck soon ran out when, in the blink of an eye, her way was completely blocked by a wall of black flames. Looking back, another wall of black fire formed behind her. She was trapped. Wizards were indeed attacking Austria.

"_Whoever you are,_" said Terezija, looking around for anyone. "_I am warning you: I have a wand, and I'm not scared of using it!_"

The answer the witch got was one of the scariest things she had ever heard. Echoing through the city, a maniacal cackle could be heard. As if out of the shadows created by the flames, a dark, cloaked figure walked inside the perimeter laid out by the tall, black flames.

Even though she was completely invisible, Terezija knew whoever it was could see her. Terezija cast a Reductor Curse at the figure, but the hot white-blue flash of light seemed to simply vanish in the shadows surrounding the now advancing figure.

"_Confringo! Fulmina! Incarcerous! Accio Cordis!_"

The ball of explosive flames slid off an invisible shield, despite the impossibility of this, and impacted a nearby building, causing the following explosion to destroy its facade. The following bolt of lightning was absorbed in the figure's hand and shot back at her with twice the power it initially had been cast, forcing Terezija to levitate a significant pile of rubble between her and the bolt. The chains the witch invoked transformed into sand as they approached the figure. Finally, the Heart-Ripping Curse seemed to have no effect.

Terezija was going to continue her onslaught of curses and spells, but she was stopped when her Shield Charm broke with a loud sound of glass shattering, her wand was ripped from her hand by an invisible force, and her Disillusionment Charm wore off. The cloaked figure examined her wand, now in its hands, before it seemed to decompose and vanish.

In an instant, the figure was standing barely ten feet in front of her. It lazily held one of its hands from its side and shot red lightning from it. Terezija was on the ground, screaming blue murder for every nerve of her body could only feel a pure and searing pain. Her screams were the only thing you could hear in the street before it was slowly muffled by the high and echoing, maniacal cackle. The pain stopped, and Terezija could only feel numbness, not even the tear that was slowly falling from her cheek.

"_Please…_" she tried to tell her attacker, only to exit in a mutter. "_Please… have mercy_."

"_Do not worry_," the figure said, its voice hoarse and echoing like its cackle. "_I'm not going to kill you. I have… a more learned use for you ah ah ah Ah!_" The figure started cackling before shooting more red lightning to her.

Terezija could only see white from the pain before she fell unconscious.

* * *

Anthonie had already sent his weekly letter the day before, but the boy sent another one to his family on the day following it, asking for counsel. He wouldn't let some rabble scare him, and if he knew the identity of his attackers, Hogwarts would have found three dead boys come morning. Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury, so instead, he thought the best solution would be to ask wiser heads how he should proceed. He sent Ilderia to Uncle Sylvester at Oldham House who would read the letter before sending it to his family through the Floo who then would read it.

Along with a swift response from his family, Anthonie was faced with a surprising front cover on his newspaper on the morning of the 17th of September 1991. Anthonie had received not one, but two letters from his family. The first one, from home, told him to always be cautious when walking in the hallways and that he should always be with his friends. Father also advised him that maybe he should start practising duelling with his friends.

The second letter, from Grandfather Friedrich, contained a list of spells, charms, jinxes, hexes, and some curses of his level and a bit higher. Anthonie had written to his great-grandfather about how he didn't have a place where he could exercise his magic with the Levitation and Fire-Making Charms and, in the light of the new events, Grandfather Friedrich also wrote him to learn the basic Shield Charm and that he should try keeping the shield up during the entire day and always cast a new one when the previous failed so as to kill two birds with one stone.

Each morning, Anthonie received the latest edition of _Le Monde Magique_, the French newspaper focusing on international news. The paper talked about events of importance going around in the global wizarding world, mainly politics, with occasional events happening in the Muggle world like when the Great War initially started in 1914 and the assassination of Austria's Archduke or when the Americans set fire to the jungles of Vietnam and how many witches and wizards had to flee their homes and that some magical creatures became endangered following that. But what was currently monopolising the front cover of the French newspaper was very worrying and almost never seen.

_AUSTRIA AND HUNGARY ATTACKED! DOZENS OF CROATIAN WITCHES AND WIZARDS MISSING AFTER MULTIPLE BOMBARDMENTS! MUGGLE CIVIL WAR IN YUGOSLAVIA REFLECTING IN THE WIZARDING WORLD? MUGGLE AND WIZARDING AUTHORITIES DECLARE NOT HAVING BEEN INVOLVED IN BOMBARDMENTS! INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS AND UNITED NATIONS INVESTIGATE ON THE AFFAIR!_

Under the alarming titles, a photograph showed a city in fire with balls of light piercing the night sky and crashing into buildings. The article described the attacks on two cities in Dalmatia and one city in the Hungarian Balkans which happened simultaneously last night. The pattern was identical, and the rare witnesses described similar events. The three cities were also all close or on the Muggle front, which the author said seemed like the perpetrators were trying to incriminate the Muggle Yugoslav authorities.

But it seemed Anthonie wasn't the only one to learn about the attack. Down the Slytherin table, Arwen Rosier was reading about a similar article to her friends from _Worldly Wizarding News_, and it seemed others at the three other House tables were doing the same. Anthonie could see at the High Table Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor, reading what looked like a Muggle newspaper, and if the look on her face was anything to go by, he was sure it was relating about it; albeit the Muggle version.

At the centre of the High Table, Headmaster Dumbledore's throne-like chair was vacant. He must have been in Switzerland, already. And if the Headmaster was gone, that meant Grandfather Friedrich would also not be home. That was worrisome if Professor Dumbledore was absent that meant the attacks were more serious than even _Le Monde Magique_ let on.

* * *

_A few days later_

"_Vespa!_"

"_Protego!_"

The Anthonie's shield stopped Daphne's Stinging Jinx. Their little group started learning the Shield Charm as soon as they could after Anthonie received his great-grandfather's letter. Following that, the five students began duelling each evening before curfew in their abandoned classroom. The boy also started making a list of every spell he read about so he could learn them and expand his arsenal.

He also was experimenting with both combat Transfiguration and incendiary fighting. The former went largely unsuccessfully. Anthonie would try close to thirty times a day to transfigure anything he could into sharp, metallic blades, but the only substance he could change into metal moderately fast was wood, which was scarce in a medieval polished stone hallway. He also took too much time to do the shape of a blade despite following the instructions of his more advanced Transfiguration textbooks.

Incendiary fighting was way easier than combat Transfiguration, though. It had taken him hours finding a good book in the Library that could instruct him about it, and he was far from having mastered the art, but this he could do. The principle was to alternatively cast between small concentrated balls and tongues of flames and in quick succession. This technique had the advantages of having to say the incantation of the Fire-Making Charm only once and gave you the mobility you wouldn't have if you were concentrating on casting a continuous bolt of flames.

Anthonie started doing this alone in their abandoned classroom so as to get a feel for it and practice the moves in the book. After some time, he got the girls involved and asked for the four of them to put their combined power to make a single Shield Charm. Anthonie didn't want to accidentally scorch one of them, and that way if he was able to get through their defence it would mean his power had greatly increased.

But they weren't doing that, now, they were practising duelling. Those practices were particularly tough on Anthonie since it was always one of them against the other four. Initially, Anthonie had thought of it always being him against the girls, but they soon realised that if him, a rich pure-blood scion could be attacked, so could the other four. And they had a Muggle-born and a half-blood in their group.

Right now, Anthonie was against the girls, and no one had won any fight while pitched against the other four, yet. When the young pure-blood scion had thought of magical duels when he was younger, he had thought of using one's surroundings to his advantages and turn his opponents attacks against them. Not use common charms, jinxes, and hexes at his opponents and deflecting or dodging the ones coming his way. It was just so… common. Thugs and simple witches and wizards fought like that, not wizards of noble status. It was just so… uncreative, unoriginal. But he persevered through the practices anyway, and it made him exercise.

Maybe it had only taken two tries to Anthonie for him to successfully cast a Shield Charm, but they were far from being powerful. He could at best deflect one or two spells from his friends before it broke, and him being outnumbered meant most of the spells he cast were to shield himself to the detriment of his offence. And so, each time it was only a matter of time before the four girls pierced through his defences and forced him to yield.

The boy altered regularly his wands between duels, so as to not make one jealous of the other and to strengthen his bond with them. He hadn't really kept it a secret to his friends that he had two wands, but he hadn't openly told them, and the girls didn't seem to notice his wand would seemingly change colours or at least didn't bother to ask him about it.

Their quintet had also practised the Disarming Charm, something that could easily end a duel right here and there. The charm was also very useful to the five first-years to break each other's shields.

They mostly kept to simple spells for their practice duels when they weren't practising for something specific like incendiary fighting, not wanting to severely injure someone. So, most spells like the Severing Charm, the Fire-Making Charm, and the Piercing Hex were not allowed to use. They also weren't allowed to use the Levitation Charm to move the desks or chairs in the abandoned classroom since they most likely wouldn't have some at their disposal if they were to be ambushed in a hallway. It was also agreed by all that being thrown a desk at would most likely get one of them landed in the Hospital Wing, somewhere they already had to go regularly in the beginning of their practice duels routine for boil-curing potions or anti-bruise paste when they were hit by a Pimple Hex or too many Stinging Jinxes.

The former had been handled by their group brewing their own boil-curing potions after receiving permission from both Potions Masters to pick the necessary ingredients in the cupboard of Laboratory 1A. Under their watchful gazes, mind you. The second had been harder to find a solution to it, and they still didn't have a perfect solution. For now, they just tried to use it less, no small feat when it was the spell with the shortest incantation they knew and time was of the essence in a duel, and they could always put cold water compresses where it stung the most and apply the Cushioning Charm they were learning in Charms class where they sat, which did help a bit.

Anthonie had also tried to keep his Shield Charms up during a whole day like Grandfather Friedrich told him to do, but he could only keep it up long enough to get from a point A to point B between his lessons.

"_Petrificus –,_"

"_Patenôtre!_" cried Anthonie.

The long-haired boy had been able to cast first thanks to his shorter incantation. His spell had hit his target which didn't have the time to get a shield up, and the bushy-haired witch was rendered unable to articulate by the French version of the Tongue-Tying Jinx.

"_Flipendo!_"

"_Titillando!_"

"_Colloshoo!_"

Anthonie's shield blocked Sybil's Knockback Jinx and broke in the process. The black and ashen-haired witch's Tickling Charm was dodged by Anthonie, but the silvery-blonde witch's Shoe-Sticking Charm hit him.

The way the spell worked was that, upon contact, it would create an adhesive substance to form at the sole of one's footwear, or feet if they didn't wear any. But it didn't stop you from getting your feet out of them. It's just that normally you wouldn't have the time to unlace them, but Anthonie's slippers didn't have cumbersome things such as laces.

Anthonie was out of his slippers in no time and moving around in stocking feet, getting a shield up to protect himself from the Pimple Hex and Stinging Jinx zooming in his directions. The first time it had happened, Anthonie had been able to knock Sybil out of the fight with a Freezing Charm, leaving him to fight Daphne and Hermione only, Tracey having been disarmed early on in the duel and hit with a Tongue-Tying Jinx.

But now he was fighting three witches with their fighting abilities unhindered, and one unable to properly articulate, but still armed.

Daphne had frozen a small part of the floor right in front of Anthonie's feet, having been targeted at the boy's feet and deflected by his shield.

"_Vespa! Flipendo! Expelliarmus!_"

Anthonie decided to focus on Tracey and break her defence so as to have one less person to worry about. His first and second spells hit her shield, which broke, but his third had been stopped by a newly raised Shield Charm cast by Hermione who had been freed from his Tongue-Tying Jinx by Sybil.

He was now back at fighting four capable and competent witches. He tried to dodge and shield only for a while to think of what would be the best way to proceed forward, which wasn't easy when he had to perform jumps that would make a figure skater turn green from jealousy so he could dodge two Shoe-Sticking Charms and a Freezing Spell before rolling on the floor just in time to not be hit by a Tickling Charm.

He didn't think he could hit any of them with a spell of his own without being a sitting duck for the other three. He didn't know any spell that could be a useful shield-breaker except maybe for the Disarming Charm, which for unknown reasons broke their shields more easily than the rest of their limited practice arsenal. Miranda Goshawk had mentioned in one of her books you could put more power into your spells if you waited longer before letting it go. As if to charge it more. But did he really have enough time or energy to do it? He was starting to get out of breath, and the girls really didn't give him any moment of respite, something he loved and hated them for.

"_Protego! Protego! Protego!_"

There, that should give him some time. Anthonie did the wand gesture and tried to push more power than usual into his Disarming Charm. A small red light appeared at the tip of his wand and he shouted the incantation before making a sharp flick of his wand in direction of Daphne.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

A jet of white-red light got out of his wand and flew towards the girls. Daphne's Shield Charm broke loudly, like glass, and she was pushed back as her wand was propelled into the air towards Anthonie. The tall, silvery-blonde witch fell on her backside and Anthonie caught her wand in his left hand.

"Are you alright, Daphne?" asked Sybil, her tone worried.

They all stopped and got around the fallen girl to see if she was alright. None of their spells had done something like that before. It usually took a spell to break the shield and another to incapacitate their opponent. And nowhere was it written in their textbooks that Disarming Charms could propel someone.

"Oh mon Dieu, Daphné, I am so sorree," said Anthonie. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said the girl told to her friends, sitting up. "My head didn't hit the floor. Our Knockback Jinxes are more powerful anyway."

After being reassured Daphne was fine, they all got back to where they had been, with Daphne on the sideline and her wand in Anthonie's left hand. It wouldn't have been out of character for Daphne or Tracey to try and use the boy's lack of concentration and vulnerability while he made sure his friend was alright, but they had decided to be fair for the sake of this never having happened before. Anthonie's shoes were still stuck to the floor where he had let them, and the couple of ice spots on the floor – a little gift from Daphne – were kept there.

They started again. Multiple Shield Charms still up, Anthonie cast a Body-Bind first at Tracey and a Singing Charm at Sybil. Hermione cast a Knockback Jinx, but Anthonie side-stepped it and replied in kind. Tracey cast her trademark Tickling Charm and Sybil two Stinging Jinxes.

"_Cantis! Tarantallegra!_"

It was funny, really. Here they were casting spells like one would sell warm rolls while most of their classmates could at best levitate a feather and light their wands. The Singing Charm wasn't even in the official curriculum for any of their classes, and they wouldn't see the Dance Animation Charm in class until just before the spring break. Singing and dancing at the same time, wasn't that the dream of any stage performer?

Sybil had been able to block them both, although the second spell broke her shield. Anthonie would have taken the opportunity to get the reddish dirty-blonde witch out of the fight, but Hermione had broken his shield with a Body-Bind. Quickly followed was a Tickling Charm from Tracey which the boy didn't dodge quickly enough.

He felt fingers tickling him all over his body. The charm had been mildly powered at best, but that was all it needed to be. Anthonie's laughing stopped him from putting a shield back up before Sybil got him with a Body-Bind Curse.

"That was a good duel," said Daphne, who helped Anthonie back to his feet after he got free from the spells on him by their casters. "That was the first time you got _me_ out of the fight."

"And yet I wasn't able to defeat anyone else," replied Anthonie. "Tracey only needed to heet me with a single Tickling Charm for me to be unable to continue."

His accent had slowly, but surely lessened as the weeks passed. Samhain was getting closer, and the girls told him his accent was slowly changing from a French one to a posh London accent. That statement had filled Anthonie with joy and made him feel suddenly very warm despite the Thermal Charms on his robes.

Tracey snorted at that. "Oh please! Anthonie, you were more out of breath than laughing before Sybil hit you with her Body-Bind. And believe me, you'll do better if you're cornered again by Gryffindors on the upper floors. You won't have to hold back, for one."

Speaking of Gryffindors, the Slytherin first-years had become even more antagonistic against their Gryffindor classmates in their shared classes. Madam Hooch had let the first-years play a small game of Quidditch house vs house. The result had been everyone with the exception of Neville doing at least one of the seven-hundred fouls and an early dismissed lesson.

In Potions, the students themselves didn't dare do anything, not taking the chance of making mistakes while brewing or attracting Professor Snape's displeasure on themselves for interrupting his lecture. But Professor Snape had no such qualms. Indeed, the Potions Master had doubled his unpleasant treatment towards the Gryffindors, and his cutting remarks had become more hurtful and personal.

Potter, Black, and to a lesser extent or by association Weasley and Neville suffered the most from it. But that didn't mean Professor Snape didn't make comments more mean than necessary to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil because of their whispered conversations while they were brewing potions or to Seamus Finnegan for the low quality of his assignments.

On the other hand, Snape had become more helpful to Anthonie, and would even sometimes whisper him some additional tips while he passed. And despite how exhaustive the instructions on the blackboard were and made his and Daphne's potions of great quality, those tidbits of additional information were able to improve their concoctions somehow.

* * *

Samhain wasn't celebrated at Hogwarts, or much in Great Britain and Ireland for that matter like most of Europe in this day and age. In its stead, they celebrated All Hallow's Eve, more known today as Hallowe'en.

The Great Hall was said to be decorated for the feast there would be in the evening. Jokes and pranks had been made all around during the day, with some Muggle-borns trying to scare other students by surprising them with masks of cadavers which for some reasons wanted to eat people's brains.

Some skeletons could be seen walking around in the Dungeons and Peeves, the school's poltergeist, had been going all out in the pranking and chaos department. Anthonie had also been sure there were more ghosts in the castle than usual.

The girls had found Hermione crying in a girls' lavatory during the lunch break on their way to the Transfiguration Courtyard. Apparently, Ronald Weasley, to whom she had been paired with during their Charms lesson in the morning, had been awfully rude to her. He'd called her names and talked about her appearance and told she was friendless to other Gryffindor boys behind her back after the lesson.

They calmed and reassured their Ravenclaw friend before their afternoon lessons began and continued their day as they usually would. Who cared about what an idiot and failure like Weasley said anyway?

The Great Hall had indeed been decorated for the feast. With giant lit Jack'o-Lanterns in place of the candles in the air, and animated, flying bats made of chocolate and sugar. A group of the skeletons hanging in the Dungeons had been dancing in the Entrance Hall as the students entered the Great Hall.

The feast rivalled the one they had at the beginning of the term, with all the food and sweets on the tables. But the festivities were very short-lived, as Professor Quirrell barged into the Great Hall, screaming blue murder as he ran from the doors to the High Table.

The man clad in a purple turban stopped in front of the Headmaster and announced to everyone about there being a troll in the dungeons before fainting. What followed was complete and utter chaos as almost six-hundred students screamed and ran around in a complete lack of organisation and order.

Professor Dumbledore had cast purple fireworks out of his wand to get some silence.

"Prefects, escort your houses to your common rooms immediately."

The Headmaster then looked at the gamekeeper and tallest person in the room. "Hagrid, go to the Hospital Wing, and tell the Mediwitches about the troll." He then looked at the caretaker. "Argus, go to the Library and alert Madam Pince."

Both men exited the Great Hall at a racing pace, with Mr Hagrid being much quicker than Filch thanks to his giant legs.

"Teachers, follow me to the dungeons, we will take care of the troll."

Everyone did as instructed. Gemma Farley and a boy her age grouped the first-years, making a headcount.

"I've got everyone," finally said the boy. "You?"

"The girls are all there," Gemma replied. "First-years, you follow us."

The Slytherins, guided by their prefects, followed behind the teachers who entered the entrance to the dungeons first, who would defend the Slytherins as they got to their common room.

"Look, Snape isn't going for the dungeons," Tracey whispered to her three friends.

The Junior Head of Slytherin was indeed not going for the dungeons' entrance but was climbing up the Main Staircase.

"Where do you think he's going?" asked Sybil.

"I don't have the foggiest," said Tracey.

Slytherin house reached the common room safe and sound with no casualties and no troll in sight. The food from the feast had appeared on multiple tables in the common room that hadn't been there before, and their quartet seated themselves next to a window after serving themselves.

"What was Professor Quirrell doing een the dungeons while the feast was going on een the Great Hall anyway?" said Anthonie.

"More importantly," said Tracey between two bites of her chicken. "Isn't odd that we didn't hear any sound on our way here? Trolls aren't exactly discreet."

"I would normally say that maybe it was really deep in the dungeons," said Daphne, cutting herself a bit of her lamb. "But that still brings the question of how it could have gotten there."

"And why Professor Snape went upstairs instead of down in the dungeons?" added Tracey.

Sybil gasped a little. "Do you think it's about the thing that would give us a very painful death on the third floor? Maybe it was a troll that was in there and it escaped."

"Why would the teachers keep a troll eenside the school?" said Anthonie.

They continued to speculate while eating. At some point in the middle of their discussion, there were some loud muffled noises that seemed to come from very far in the castle. It lasted for a while until there was a last one like something enormous fell on the ground, and it ended.

"Looks like they finally got it," said someone in the common room.

"And eet doesn't seem like they found eet een the dungeons," added Anthonie, but to his friends only.

The following day, word got around the student body that the troll hadn't been found in the dungeons like Professor Quirrell had said, but on the third floor.

"Do you think Professor Snape knew it wasn't in the dungeons?" Daphne had said.

"Why not tell the rest of the faculty, then?" replied Hermione.

They were studying in the Library with Neville and had started discussing what everyone else in the school was talking about. Anthonie's friendship with the Gryffindor boy had remained largely unaffected by the attack earlier in the year.

"Did you noticed his limp?" asked Tracey. "He didn't get up a single time in class this morning. He must have been injured while fighting the troll, and then the other teachers arrived."

"But how does a troll injure someone so bad they still limp the next day?" countered Anthonie. "Trolls don't cause magical injuries. At best eet could have broken Professor Snape's leg, but he wouldn't have a limp today."

"Maybe he really went to the forbidden corridor, then," said Hermione. "Maybe someone needed to make sure the troll wouldn't get there or that the thing there doesn't escape while the teachers aren't paying attention."

That made sense. Whatever _it _was in the third floor forbidden corridor, it must have demanded somewhat regular surveillance so as not to either die, escape, destroy itself or something else.

* * *

November lived up to its reputation as the blandest month of the year by having almost nothing of interest happening during it. Except for the cold that crept up suddenly on Anthonie after a somewhat warm October for the Scottish Islands – which the French boy fought tooth and nail against – the only thing out of the ordinary was that the great majority of the student body couldn't stop talking about the two upcoming Quidditch matches this month, particularly the Gryffindor vs Slytherin one.

Anthonie had no intention whatsoever of attending any of them, and he had made it crystal clear to any moron that tried to lose their time by discussing the sport to him. Now, Anthonie wasn't _that _anti-sport, he even sometimes tolerated discussions about International Quidditch matches since those generally had one anecdote of interest to recount, but he had zero interest at all about school rivalries regarding a sport. He had barely blinked when one of the friends Johann had made at school, some socially awkward Bulgarian boy with a German surname, had visited them one summer and had perfectly performed a move called a Wronskley Feint or other that consisted of diving towards the ground at neck-breaking speeds as if they had seen the Snitch and getting back up just before hitting the ground.

Anthonie had been told about Slytherin winning against Gryffindor by a fair margin after the fact and he half-heartedly congratulated Marcus Flint, the team's captain, for his victory before exiting the common room to continue his studying in the Library. He didn't saw the interest of celebrating something that only awarded the house twenty points in the House Cup, but since the others were of a different point of view he preferred to let them to their quite unnecessary and disturbing celebrations.

During the Flying lesson following the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match, Madam Hooch let the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors playing a 'friendly' Quidditch match. Anthonie was grateful for having the presence of spirit to ask early in the term to be exempted from the class since everyone in that game except for Neville performed at least one of the seven hundred fouls. For one, Finnigan had set Theodore's broom on fire, Crabbe and Goyle were able to push Black from his, Parkinson put a Sticking Charm on the Quaffle when one of the Muggle-burns had it in their hands, and Weasley gave Malfoy a black eye after the latter cast a Leg-Locker Curse at Neville. Even Sybil, the kindest of the Slytherin quartet, shot a Freezing Charm at Dean Thomas because he was zooming straight towards her.

So it was in the midst of utter chaos that Potter's broom tried to kick him off like a bull while getting higher and higher until he was almost as high as one of the towers. Madam Hooch cast some spells to make the antiquated school broom behave but to no avail. In the end, Potter's grip on the broom failed him and he was thrown to the grown. An in-extremis Softening Charm on the ground by their Flying instructor helped the boy avoid a nearly deadly fall, but the Boy-Who-Lived had to be sent to the Hospital Wing immediately, like many others in the class, and at that point, she decided to end the lesson. The following Saturday, Ravenclaw played against Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch and the eagles trounced the badgers.

* * *

November quickly let place for December, and winter had immediately come with it. On the morning of December first, multiple inches of snow covered the grounds, not a single leaf could be found on any of the trees, and the lake was already covered by some inches of ice. This last bit had for consequence made the Slytherin dormitories and common room even darker than they already had been.

The cold had hit everyone hard, but Anthonie was, for the most part, already equipped for the cold since the beginning of November. Since the beginning of last month, the French boy always wore his woollen winter robes enchanted with Thermal Charms and his winter cloak over that. He stopped wearing his usual slippers for his new winter pair equipped with both Warming _and _Water-repelling Charms, except for the days he had Herbology, in which case he would put his knee-high dragon-hide boots. He also adorned a scarf with his house's colours over his cloak and put two additional petticoats under his robes. He may have looked a bit over-dressed with all the layers he wore compared to everyone, particularly with the white ermine trim on his cloak, but he would be damned if he got sick because he decided to think other people's opinion and judgement was better than his. Flash news, it wasn't.

They were currently learning Warming Charms in Herbology, to protect plants from the cold, and Professor Flitwick had spent a double period explaining them the theory behind basic enchanting. Hermione surprised the Slytherins when she showed proficiency in enchanting things with the Colour-Changing Charm.

Professor Kharal had told them how happy he was that none of them had accidentally made their plants catch on fire while practising the charm, unlike some of his past students. But most students in their class knew it mustn't have been only past students. They maybe weren't taught by him, but it had quickly become known that such a thing had happened in the shared Gryffindor-Hufflepuff first-year lesson taught by Professor Sprout.

It wasn't unheard of for students in first or second-year to make things catch on fire or explode while practising spells, and their cohort had two such specimens in it. Justin Finch-Fletchey of Hufflepuff and Seamus Finnegan of Gryffindor had the unfortunate habit of making things spontaneously combust.

On her part, Hermione had enchanted a banner to change colours to support her team during the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match at the end of November. Anthonie had been surprised that his bookworm friend showed an interest in the sport enough to go watch the match. But he wondered if it had been a complex stratagem to get extra credit when Hermione showed the banner, whose charms were still active after a week and a half, to their professor.

On the fourteenth of December, while everyone was cheering to either the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs in the dead cold of winter, Anthonie and his friends had decided to practice enchantments in their not-so-anymore abandoned classroom. Hermione had shown them the basics of how to embed something with their magic to cause a lasting effect last week during the Ravenclaw vs Slytherin match, and now they were having fun by trying to enchant objects.

Tracey had been trying to enchant her unbreakable hairpin with an Unlocking Charm so as to make unlocking easier. Daphne was currently enchanting one of her nail-polish to change colours on demand while Sybil had been trying since God knows when to make an invisibility cloak with one of her more used cloaks by trying to enchant it with the sixth-year Disillusionment Charm.

Might as they tried, the girl had been too stubborn to listen to her friends and stop her fool's errand. Invisibility cloaks weren't even enchanted with that Charm, they were made out of Demiguise fur.

For his part, Anthonie was enchanting one of his pair of high-heeled slippers to be permanently silent with Silencing and Softening Charms. The boy had thought it to be more practical for someone of their age to sneak out. It was impossible for a first-year, even a talented one, to make an invisibility cloak, but one could change their hair and skin colour, wear a hood over their face, use a Feather-Weight Charm on themselves to make themselves faster, and finally, silencing oneself would make one nearly undetectable by mundane means of search.

Who knew, if for any reasons had to go wander in the hallways after curfew, he would already have a silenced pair of shoes. Ah, but who was he kidding. The use they would most likely serve would probably make people jump because they hadn't heard him coming.

Neville wasn't with them, he was at the Quidditch match with everyone else, probably trying with the rest of his house to encourage their Chasers to score goals since the word going around was that their Seeker was mediocre at best. The Gryffindor first-year had been attending less and less of their study meetings, now that he thought about it. The boy had given them a lame excuse about not feeling too well and that he didn't want to give them his illness, whatever it was.

Anthonie had understood at the beginning of term Neville didn't have the same timetable as the four Slytherins and their Ravenclaw friend. And if the Gryffindor had wanted to spend some of his free time with students from his house, it was his choice. But Neville had nearly always studied with them, and it's not like having more homework would stop him from seeing them. It would exactly have the opposite effect.

* * *

With the last week of term before the Yule break came mid-term exams. They all consisted of written examinations and Anthonie was confident he would get full marks or close to it in everything. History had consisted yet again of citing _A History of Magic_ word for word to get full marks and with his notes taken with his Dictaquill he didn't miss a single word of what their professors said during their lectures.

On Wednesday, though, something unusual happened. Anthonie and his four girl friends (emphasis on the space between the words girl and friends) had gone to the Library, passing Madam Pince's desk and walking between tables before entering the section full of shelves. The Library was built like a tower in the inside, even if it looked like a one storey-high square room form the outside.

The front where Madam's Pince desk resided just next to the entrance and facing the Restricted Section was rectangular in shape. But the back, where the bookshelves were, was shaped like a cylindrical tower of five-storey. The base floor was a complete labyrinth of bookshelves where students could sometimes lose their sense of directions for a couple of hours. The Librarian vehemently hated noise, but it had been an unwritten rule that if you were truly lost, you needed only screaming and the Librarian would be right by your side. This had happened twice at the beginning of term, in which both cases a first-year had wandered alone too far and had been lost.

The other floors weren't so bad. They consisted of platforms running along the walls with bookshelves completely covering the walls, with no windows at all. The upper floors were only lit by floating candles and an enormous pit of light in the ceiling. There were stairs leading from one level to another, a bit like in the Library at Palais des Beaussiers, except Anthonie had been _sure _he'd seen someone up there along the impossibly high fourth floor who had used books that would get in front of them like a staircase to get from one floor to another… or maybe on the other side of the floor without going along the balcony. It was pretty difficult saying which it was from that height.

So yes, the five of them had entered the bookshelf maze in search of a reading table where they could study in peace when they saw a table _covered_ by high stacks of books. Its occupants were even hidden by them except for their legs that showed under the table. All except one.

"Hello, Neville," greeted Anthonie. "What are you doing?"

The round-faced, blond boy looked up from the book he had been reading to look at them. He looked surprised to see them there, and a bit shameful about it.

"Oh – hi, Anthonie, girls," Neville said. "We were searching for something we'd been told about."

"Someone, actually," said a nonchalant voice originating from one of the students hidden by the books.

"Don't tell them what we're doing!" said another voice from behind the books. It was comical, really.

"Who are you researching about, Black?" Daphne asked the former voice.

But it was the second voice who said something next. "Get lost! We don't wanna deal with Malfoy's cronies."

Anthonie was going to say a cutting and largely classist reply and Daphne looked affronted at being called a crony, but someone else beat him to the shot.

"Did you hear something?" asked Tracey, putting one hand next to one of her ears as if she was trying to listen to a very faint sound. "It almost sounded like someone we didn't ask anything talked to us."

This caused their quintet to laugh. Neville also tried to stifle his chuckles.

"We've been searching for the last month or so about someone named Nicolas Flamel," said a third voice from behind the towers of books. It was Potter.

Anthonie's laugh diminished before he asked, "Did you say _Nicolas Flamel_?"

Neville and the girls gave him a weird look, and Anthonie imagined the other boys would have too if they hadn't been behind this comically large stack of books.

"Yes!" exclaimed Potter, forgetting about being silent and being hushed by ten people, two of them being students from another table. He then added, more silently this time, "Do you know him?"

"The question eezn't if I know him," said Anthonie, looking at everyone around him he could see. "But how eez it possible for you to have searched one of the most famous personalities of the magical world for a month and found nothing."

Weasley finally pushed the books so they could look at each other. "Who's he, then, if he's so famous?"

Anthonie subconsciously made an undignified grimace at the question, but he changed his expression before answering to the rude ginger. "_Nicolas Flamel_ eez the sole and only person that has been able to achieve the greatest and final achievement of Alchemy: creating the Philosopher's Stone. This stone has the ability to change simple metals into gold, but most importantly, eet can make the Elixir of Life. Eet eez the only safe and proved way for a mortal to achieve immortality."

"How do you know this?" asked Black, following Weasley's example and pushing away the books.

"How do _you_ not know?" Anthonie asked back. "You are named after one of the founders of modern alchemy and you weren't able to find about _Nicolas Flamel_ in a month."

That shut Black's pretty face immediately, as well as making him go red.

"But still," said Neville." How did you know?"

"I'm French, Neville, and _Nicolas Flamel_ is a six-hundred and thirty-something Frenchman who accomplished one of the greatest magical feats in the history of wizardkind."

"So this is why you didn't attend our study sessions, Neville?" asked Hermione.

The girl had had a murderous expression when Weasley showed his freckled face from behind the books, but it was gone, and she sounded offended the round-faced boy would prefer spending time with someone who hurt her than herself. The boy in question now looked ashamed and looked at his hands.

An awkward silence settled in only to be broken by Potter. "Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome," said Anthonie, politely. "Come on, girls, we've got homework to do."

Their quintet walked away, and the four remaining boys looked at each other awkwardly, though the awkwardness was more caused by the ridiculous number of books separating them than anything.

"All that time wasted searching only to be told like that," said Weasley, slouching in his chair.

Black got up and stacked the books in a more sensible – and more levitation-friendly – way before speaking. "I'll remind you, Ron, that you were the one that said we shouldn't ask anyone about it. I would have asked Madam Pince right away if not for that, and we wouldn't have needed to search for a month."

"Well, I'm sorry if I thought it was better to be discreet when searching about someone Hagrid didn't want us to know about."

"That would explain why Snape tried to bypass Fluffy," Harry said to himself.

They brought their books to Madam Pince's desk and left the Library under the stern gaze of the Librarian.

* * *

They were going home for Yule, and the first-years who didn't stay at Hogwarts for the holidays had to ride the carriages to go back at Hogsmeade's station like the upper years. Unlike most students at Hogwarts, Anthonie was quite ready to depart the school for the holidays. His trunk's clothes compartment was the size of a small walk-in wardrobe, more storing space than he would have than if he used the closets in the dormitory, and so hadn't really unpacked when he arrived at the boarding school. He didn't need to get his telescope and cauldron back and his books were quickly put back in their place.

Anthonie also took a page from Theodore's book and showered the evening before they were due to embark the train instead of having to hurry in the morning. The morning after that he dressed himself in one of his pastel blue winter robes with matching winter cloak and cape. Following the end of his morning routine and Ilderia having already been sent back home the day before with his latest letter, Anthonie waited after his friends in the Entrance Hall with his trunk in hand.

The Daphne, Sybil, and Tracey rejoined him shortly, but Hermione and Neville had to get down the seven storeys of the castle before entering arriving at the Entrance Hall. So, they waited for the two when Neville arrived with Paracelsus Black beside him, who also had a trunk with him.

"I-I know you didn't start on the right foot," had said Neville. "But I'd like for us all to get along on the train.

"Paracelsus, these are my friends: Daphne Greengrass, Sybil Fawley, Tracey Davis, Hermione Granger, and Anthonie de Bousquet." They all greeted him with varying tones before Neville spoke again. "Anthonie, Hermione, Daphne, Sybil, Tracey, this is Paracelsus Black. He's my friend and roommate."

Black nodded at them as a whole. "Nice meeting you. And sorry for Ron's behaviour. Malfoy really got under his skin in September, and with Dean having been harassed in October, the Quidditch match and the Flying lesson following it, and Potions class in general, that really tinted his view about Slytherins."

Anthonie mentally told himself it was fair, and Professor Snape certainly didn't help the situation. In fact, he was probably aggravating it. But that made him wonder.

"But not yours?" he asked.

Black shook his head. "I grew up visiting my cousin Andromeda regularly. Her and my grandfather were both Slytherins, so I know best."

"Following that logic, Weasley should also know best, considering his grandmother was a Slytherin."

Everyone looked at Daphne after she said that. Hermione and Black had expressions of surprise, but Anthonie, Sybil, and Neville had looks of acknowledgement and Tracey seemed to be used to that from her friend. Neville was also nodding as if he remembered learning that a long time ago.

"How do you know that?" asked Hermione.

"Weasley's grandmother was a member of the Black family, and the members of that family who weren't sorted into Slytherin in the last century can be counted on one hand's fingers."

"As I said," continued Black. "What happened this term really affected Ron's views on Slytherins."

There was a short moment of silence before Hermione spoke.

"We should probably go. The train won't wait for us."

They crossed the viaduct together and now they were near the carriages. It was then that Anthonie had seen them. They looked like black, skeleton horses with dragon wings. Their bones looked slightly scaly and their eyes were a lifeless white.

"Why are those things pulling the carriages?" asked Anthonie.

"What do you mean?" said Daphne.

"Anthonie, there's nothing pulling the carriages," Hermione said at the same time.

"No," said Neville. "I… I see them too."

"What _do_ you see pulling the carriages?" asked Sybil.

"I don't know what they are called in English, but in French, we call them _Sombrals_. Only people who have seen death can see them."

Those of them raised in the wizarding world showed expressions of recognition, but Hermione was still a bit confused.

"But why aren't they mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_?"

"Because they're generally considered dangerous creatures due to their link to death," answered Tracey. "I also think they're carnivores, so that certainly doesn't help their case."

Following that, they started a mini-debate about views on magical creatures in wizarding Britain, but they were quickly interrupted by the kind Mr Hagrid who told them they should hurry and get in the carriages. The seven of them were able to squeeze in the six-placed carriage thanks to their small size and rode down to the station.

They got themselves a compartment for their group somewhere in the middle of the train and the four Slytherins and the one Ravenclaw were happy to not have a repeat of their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione had cast a Feather-Weight Charm on her trunk and so it joined the others on the racks without a problem. They talked for a while before the train started and it was when Paracelsus spoke up after the train's whistle blew that Anthonie noticed the black-haired boy was dressed in dark Muggle clothes.

Now, Hermione also wore Muggle clothes, but she still had a plain and unfastened black robe over them. And Paracelsus' were even conservative and somewhat formal though comfortable. But it made Anthonie wonder just how much himself and the girls had influenced Hermione and how being in Gryffindor had influenced the unrecognised member of the Black family.

They received a visit from Matthew and Robert Fawley, Sybil's brother and cousin, respectively. Anthonie hadn't seen the two fourth-years much since they were in another house, but he did see them regularly in the Music Room with their housemates before going to talk with their younger relative. They both were kind and sociable, but Anthonie couldn't imagine being actual friends with them. He thought maybe it was because of the age difference, but Fleur was their age and he thought he would have been closer to her than them without the family ties. They returned to their friends in their own compartment after wishing them all a happy Yule and New Year. Robert added a happy Christmas to both Paracelsus and Hermione, seeing their Muggle clothes.

After that, Tracey took out a game of cards called _Royal Correspondence_. Tracey explained the rules to the two Gryffindor boys as she shuffled the cards and took one out of the deck before giving one to the five who played. The game could be only played by five people each round, but since it was a relatively quick game it didn't matter that much. Tracey, Sybil, Hermione, Neville, and Paracelsus played the first two rounds. Hermione won the first and the second was won by Paracelsus.

Anthonie was playing the fifth one when Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot came to wish them a happy Yule. He currently had the Court Magician in his hands and he had played a Footman on his last turn, making him therefore immune to any card until his next turn. Daphne used her guard and guessed correctly that Neville had an Aristocrat and the boy was eliminated. Hermione used her Footman to protect herself. It was his turn, now. He picked a card from the deck: an Aristocrat. The deck was almost empty, so he decided to keep his Magician.

The Aristocrat card let the player who held it to compare his hand with another player and the player with the lowest card was eliminated. He compared with Black and immediately regretted it when his eyes met the card of the King. Anthonie discarded his hand and let the others play. Paracelsus played a Footman and that meant Daphne had to play her Seer on herself; its ability doing nothing since it allowed a player to see another one's hand.

Hermione picked the last card from the deck and played it. It was a Guard and Hermione asked the other girl if she had the Head Valet, but she guessed wrong. The three showed which card they had: Daphne had the Queen, Hermione had a Footman, and Paracelsus the King.

"I was wondering, Paracelsus, why were you researching for Nicolas Flamel?" asked Anthonie.

Both Gryffindor boys visibly tensed up, but Paracelsus quickly went back to his nonchalant expression. "Hagrid mentioned him."

"The groundskeeper?" said Daphne, her tone a bit disdainful.

Anthonie ignored her reaction. "Why not ask him who it is instead of searching in the Library for a month?"

"He didn't want too," he simply replied.

"Why?"

Tracey was shuffling the cards and handing one to the others and herself.

Paracelsus simply shrugged. "Dunno. He said we shouldn't deal with his business."

Anthonie forced a bit of a smile and looked pointedly at him. "Neville, dear." He turned a bit to look at the other boy when the latter did the same. "Why were you researching for Nicolas Flamel in such an extensive manner that it cut in your studying time?"

Neville looked a bit worried at being singled out, but Anthonie maintained the eye contact. He didn't like when people kept information from him. Every time someone kept something from him he made sure to go around the people who did so, and it almost always worked. He may have been good at eavesdropping, but he wasn't able to hear through Silencing and Muffling Charms, and the chained cabinet in his home's Library wasn't kept locked by a simple lock.

"You know you can trust me, Neville. I'm your friend," he added.

Neville seemed to argue with himself mentally for a while before he gave up. Tracey's kick under the table for him to play might have helped.

"We think the Philosopher's Stone is at Hogwarts!" Neville exclaimed before clasping his hands over his mouth.

It took ten seconds for Anthonie's brain to function what Neville said before he reacted. "What?"

Paracelsus sighed loudly. "I am _not_ dealing with Ron and Harry when they learn you told them."

Neville looked at everyone in the compartment. "Please! Don't tell anyone about that. It's a secret. Only the teachers are supposed to know that."

Anthonie's look softened. "Your secret his safe with us, right girls?" He looked pointedly at Tracey. They all nodded and agreed.

Anthonie needed to think, right now. He looked at the window and saw a bit of his reflection, mainly his nose.

"If you'll please excuse me. I need to powder my nose."

He knew the expression was an euphemism, but in his case, he'd always use it for exactly what it meant. His nose was naturally pinkish and sometimes even scarlet in contrast to his pale skin and he absolutely abhorred that aspect about his appearance. He had to powder his nose on a regular basis so as to not look like some kind of clown. He left the compartment and started walking towards one of the lavatories.

The Philosopher's Stone was in Hogwarts? That was impossible. Why would the Flamels even put it there? If they wanted to hide it they could just dig a hole in the middle of nowhere and hide it there with a Fidelius Charm on the location. Clearly, if they thought someone was after it, they didn't think they were after themselves, so it didn't matter where they put it as long as it was secret and safe. The Philosopher's Stone was at Hogwarts! For God's sake! The greatest achievement and the ultimate goal of Alchemy was hidden in a school! It didn't matter that it was in Britain's most secure place and under the watchful gaze of possibly the most powerful wizard of the twentieth century. The key to eternal life and wealth as well as one of the greatest achievements of the French wizarding people was in a castle in the Scottish Highlands!

It was at this moment that Anthonie promptly fainted. He was only able to mutter to himself « Mes sels, » as a reflex before falling.

* * *

Anthonie woke up in a gasp to the feeling of a slightly electrical shock all over his body. He sat up from his position on the seats of a compartment and looked around him.

"Easy there," said one of the boys seating on the opposing row of seats. "You just woke up from fainting."

He was lucky, from all the people that could have found him, it was the Fawley boys.

"How long was I out?" Anthonie asked before he could think.

"One minute or two?" replied Robert.

Anthonie was slightly embarrassed at feinting because he thought about the Philosopher's Stone. "Thank you for waking me up."

"No problem," said a boy he didn't recognise. He had hazel-coloured eyes compared to the Fawleys' brown, but the mousy colour of his hair wasn't out of place with the other two teenager boys.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we ever met," Anthonie said.

"Sebastian Taylor," the boy replied.

"Anthonie de Bousquet."

They both shook hands and Anthonie thanked them all again for reviving him before he left their compartment. He walked quickly to the nearest lavatory, which was fortunately vacant, and powdered his nose. He went back just as quickly to his compartment.

"Took you long enough," said Tracey, playing the Court Magician and switching hands with Daphne.

"The lavatory was occupied by someone else when I arrived," he lied. They didn't have to know about his little incident.

They continued playing for a while and bought themselves some sweets when the trolley witch came to their compartment. Anthonie was opening his Chocolate Frog when Sybil brought the subject of discussion back to the Philosopher's Stone. It took some continuous questioning, but after swearing they wouldn't tell anyone, the two Gryffindors complied to answer their questions.

The four Gryffindor boys had gone to Mr Hagrid's hut after the first Quidditch match of term and Potter had seen the groundskeeper was following the Gringotts story from his edition of the _Daily Prophet _on one of his table. This led to questioning about Potter's visit to Diagon Alley with the giant of a man. One thing led to another and the groundskeeper let out that a small package he had picked up from Gringotts – which was coincidentally the content of the vault which had been breaker in later – was Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel's business and that they shouldn't meddle with that. Mr Hagrid also let out about a 'Fluffy' which appeared to be _a three-headed dog_ behind the forbidden corridor's door.

Apparently, Paracelsus, Potter, and Weasley had gone to where they had agreed to dual Malfoy back in September and had wound up there after fleeing a tipped off Filch. Black had cast an Unlocking Charm at the last second on the locked door and they hid in the forbidden corridor and were lucky enough to get out without getting caught by Filch before the Cerberus could do more than growl at them.

Potter and Weasley put up a theory following the troll attack on Hallowe'en that Snape wanted to steal the stone since he'd gone to the third floor whereas every other teacher had gone to the Dungeons. Neville had told the two boys about the theory their group had thought during one of their study session in the Library about Snape probably being tasked to watch over the stone, but they obstinately refused to listen to him. Paracelsus, for his part, was of the belief that whoever wanted to steal the stone was most likely an outsider. But if he had to pick a professor as a suspect, he would pick Professor Quirrell.

"I mean, yeah, he doesn't have the criminal background like Professors Snow and Snape or the dark wizard vibes of Professor Snape. But if there's one professor that always goes bad, it's the Defence professor."

And Paracelsus was correct to make that assumption. Since 1957, when the succession of yearly DADA professors began, a third of them had been fired due to assault or such on someone else. As he listened to Paracelsus, Anthonie was convinced it was an outsider who tried to steal the stone from Gringotts and that no member of the staff was guilty of such. And even if Professor Quirrell was trying to steal the stone…

"Oh my god! What if Professor Quirrell really wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" said Anthonie with a tone of panic.

"Then he'll have to face a three-headed dog," said Paracelsus.

"Three heads it may have, made of stone it is not. It's a dog, it lives, it wouldn't be difficult for a dark wizard to pass it when they only need to cast a single spell to kill it."

"Are you calling Professor Quirrell a dark wizard?" asked Hermione.

"Well, no, not per se. But someone who studied the Dark Arts so as to defend against them may as well be considered having the skills of one."

"Look," intervened Paracelsus. "If you're so worried about it, I can bring you to Hagrid's after the holidays and you can ask him to certify what protects the stone."

This did calm him a bit, but Anthonie wondered if he should talk about this to someone else. And if he did, to whom? His father, Grandfather Friedrich, or Uncle Sylvester? He didn't think Grandfather Friedrich could do much from all over in Germany. His father could probably write to the Flamels and even meet them, but what could he say, "Oui, bonjour. My son discovered through a breach in security where you have hidden what keeps you alive." He should probably speak of this to Uncle Sylvester, though. It wouldn't be bad for one of the school's governors to know about this, and he had a direct line of communication with the Headmaster.

Anthonie nodded to Paracelsus. He ate the rest of his sweets and started reading a book. He read for most of the ride until they were somewhere in the south of England and the sun was already down. He wished his friends happy holidays when he exited the train and he was glad to see his uncle waiting for him on the platform. Anthonie would spend the night at Oldham House and he and his uncle would go rejoin the rest of his family at Beaussiers. Anthonie presented his friends to Uncle Sylvester and the two of them Side-Along Apparated at the old city house.

* * *

**A.N.: Leave a review.**


	12. Le Réveillon

**A.N.: Hello there. So, it's been a month since I've updated. For those of you who didn't have the chance to read the temporary chapter I put a while ago, Christmas holidays are more complicated to write than one would think. I hope you are all well and healthy in these troubling times. Quick thank you to gollydov and shadowsedai review the story.**

**Trigger warning: I would like to warn any French people that the word 'chocolatine' is used. This is because Anthonie is native and lives somewhere in Nouvelle-Aquitaine, so I thought this would add a bit of character and personality.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: It took me an entire day to figure out what would be the Christmas gifts, I also don't own Harry Potter and the political or social views of certain characters do not represent mine.**

_December 23, Palais des Beaussiers,_

"_Il est sept heures!_" loudly said a high-pitched voice owned by the person who knocked on his door.

Pierre opened his eyes and rubbed them before getting up from his bed. Taking little time, he washed his face after casting a Water-Making Spell to fill the simple porcelain bowl on his room's desk and brushed his teeth next before putting on his livery and tying his shoes quickly. He left his bedroom and went down the service stair along with the rest of the family's personal staff.

Pierre took his place between Herr Alhbrecht*** **and Sébastien and waited for M. Bélanger to seat himself before he and the other members of the non-kitchen staff did the same. Pierre put some fruits on his plate before taking two toasts and putting strawberry jam and cream on them. Meals were generally a quick affair for the servants, though not as fast as the house-elves', who had to wake the entire staff, light the fires in the edifice, and prepare food for everyone as well as cleaning the palace, making the beds, and much more.

At eight o'clock sharp, just like every day, the bell to the Marchioness' bedroom, shortly followed by the Marquis', rang. M. Lauzier and Mlle Cormier got up, the latter going to the kitchens to go fetch Her Ladyship's breakfast tray and the morning newspaper, while the former went directly up the Servants' staircase. It was only a couple of minutes after that that Maître Anthonie and damoiselle Catherine's bedrooms' bells rang. Pierre heard M. Bélanger finishing giving his instructions to the house-elves and the rest of the staff before Mlle Daigle and he went up the stairs.

* * *

Anthonie woke up in the most comfortable bed he'd slept in for the last year. But he was probably biased, considering it was his bed he'd woke up in. His dormitory bed at Hogwarts was far from being uncomfortable, but Anthonie had really been used to luxury since before he could remember. Just compare the pillows from home to those of Hogwarts. Each pillow at Hogwarts probably had a Cushioning Charm on them, but Anthonie's pillow from home had had so much more effort and sacrifice put into it. Each feather, expertly chosen, had been enchanted with an individual Cushioning Charm onto them, making for probably the softest thing someone could lay their head-on.

He opened the curtain beside him to get up from his bed and rang for Pierre. While waiting for his valet to come up, Anthonie went into his en-suite to wash his face and then let down his hair. Anthonie heard the door knock and Pierre calling his name before opening it. He went back to his bedroom and smiled at his valet who opened the room's curtains with a movement of his wand. It was good to be back home.

"_Bonjour, Maître Anthonie,_" said Pierre.

"_Bonjour, Pierre._"

Anthonie got behind the folding screen and undressed from his nightwear, giving each piece to his valet after he'd gotten them off and taking the fresh pair of drawers Pierre passed him by levitating it from above the screen. White linen shirt and stockings were put on before he rejoined Pierre on the other side of the screen.

Anthonie was handed a pair of indigo breeches and he tucked his shirt in them before he let Pierre buttoning them with a wave of his wand. The great thing about being home was that now Anthonie had Pierre to adjust his corset and if Anthonie wanted it to be a little more tight or loose, he didn't have to fear that the enchantments on his self-lacing corset could completely fail. He'd look smart, having to lace his corset by hand. Next was the blouse so that his corset wouldn't show under his robes and after that the two petticoats.

They were at the robes proper, now. Pierre levitated the under-gown, of a deep purple and with short lace ruffs at the cuffs, so that the train of the gown was above his head. Anthonie put his arms up and Pierre slowly levitated it down until Anthonie was able to put his arms in the sleeves and let his head get out by the collar.

Pierre was going to help him put the second robe on when a house-elf knocked on the door.

"_Monsieur Johann is waiting for you, Pierre,_" it said before they heard a popping sound.

The robe put over the gown was akin to a cassock; a full-length garment slightly form-fitting (though not as much as the under-gown) and could be closed on the front by a multitude of small buttons which Pierre magically fastened. The lace ruffs peaked out of the robe and Pierre was now holding the final robe. It was long – trailing several inches behind him – and had large flowing sleeves opening at the elbows but still trailing down to his mid-thighs. An intricate and complex pattern of black, white, and purple made of silk decorated the robe and ending at the snow-white trims. The last touch was a white, beetle-like, jewelled pin with eight silver 'legs' which were attached to the trims at the level of his stomach.

Pierre opened the door for him and Anthonie went to the Breakfast Room while his valet magically cleaned the boy's nightwear before putting it in the wardrobe.

The Breakfast Room's door was already open and Bélanger was standing beside the service table while Sébastien and Martin were beside the high windows.

"_Bonjour, Bélanger,_" greeted Anthonie.

The Butler bowed his head and smiled at the boy. "_Bonjour, Maître Anthonie._"

It was almost divine to be able to eat French food after a year of absence from his motherland. Anthonie's eyelids closed by themselves when he took the first bite from his chocolatine. The hot melted chocolate inside it was like nectar while the deep golden puff pastry surrounding it was in perfect balance between mellow and flaky. Anthonie finished the small pastry and passed it down with some milk.

It was so good, even, that Anthonie asked Bélanger to thank the house-elves on his part for their cooking. This caused the butler to look at him with wide-opened eyes and an expression of shock. The two footmen reacted similarly, if less outrightly than their superior. Grandfather Wilhelm choked on his tea at hearing this and got into a coughing fit after he was able to swallow it. Uncle Sylvester didn't show a reaction and instead helped Grandfather Wilhelm. Finally, his father was trying to hide his smile at the reaction of his servants and father-in-law behind his newspaper.

The news about a serial murderer in Eastern Siberia could be seen on the front cover under the headline of Spain's Viceroy's passing away. Apparently, a wizard had broken into the houses of multiple successful merchants and their victims looked like they had died of starvation. His victims' houses were also covered in graffitis like the hammer and sickle and messages that could be translated into "_Death to the Empire!_" "_Live the proletarian dictatorship!_" and other communist messages.

The article hadn't warranted the full front page since no victim had been significant targets, but it was what the article left out that made it worrying. The Muggle Act of 1920 in Russia effectively made living in or near Muggle areas and being in the presence of Muggles a criminal offence for any magical being inside the borders of the Russian Empire's borders. Not even MACUSA had been this bad during the time Rappaport's Law had been in place. This meant the magical folk of Russia and its dominions had no legal restrictions on the protections on their dwellings since they weren't close to Muggles and, so, that meant a serial murderer that could go through expansive wards without activating any alarms was on the loose.

At least there hadn't been any other mysterious night (or day) bombings accompanied by mass disappearances of witches and wizards in Yugoslavia. This murderer would probably get caught in a month or two just like the British Aurors had been able to catch Jack the Ripper in 1888.

But Anthonie was, for the moment, mostly focused on his meal rather than on murders happening on another continent. Hogwarts served fruits at breakfast, thank the Lord, but they were scarce and not fresh from the land like they were at home. At least the fruits he liked weren't. The best grapes from their vineyards were either used to make wine or reached their table, and they were able to make a multitude of exotic fruits grow in their greenhouses with minimal magic due to the generally warm and soft climate for most of the year in the region. Meaning he could eat mangoes and oranges year-long. At least, Hogwarts had good toasts and eggs even when compared to his home, so it wasn't all bad.

Catherine and Johann had arrived in the Breakfast Room – Catherine several minutes after Johann – while Anthonie was savouring his breakfast. His grandfather and uncle had already finished their breakfasts when he had arrived and were reading their mail. Uncle Sylvester received a letter from his brother's grandson who lived in Canada wishing him happy holidays while Grandfather Wilhelm received a letter from Grandfather Friedrich saying he would have to stay again for the night at the ICW's headquarters.

The currently in-progress dissolution of the USSR was making a ruckus in the wizarding counterparts of the seceding Soviet republics. Some of the higher-ups in the aristocracies of Lithuania, the Baltic Duchy, Ukraine, Crimea, Caucasia, and the Central Steppes were pushing for the independence of their region, no doubt seeing an opportunity of seizing the power for themselves instead of having to answer to the Romanovs. The same had been done when the Muggles had dissolved Austria-Hungary. Rumours had it some of the bodies of the instigators were still being searched.

* * *

_The International Confederation of Wizards' Headquarters, Switzerland_

"_The Chair officially declares opened the three thousand five hundred eighty-eighth session of the International Confederation of Wizards!_" announced a wizard seated on the left end of the High Desk where the Mugwumps were seated. At the middle was seated the Supreme Mugwump, the world-famous Albus Dumbledore.

His message was repeated in dozens of languages for everyone to hear and in other languages or dialects by private interpreters. After this, the doors were closed and locked. There was, of course, no real need for all of this interpreting and translation, considering the members of the assembly who were the less polyglot were fluent in at least five languages in this day and age. But it was nonetheless done out of courtesy and equity towards every culture.

It was a shame, really, that no magical solution had been found to translate languages. But then again, Lord Grimmen suspected whoever had performed the ritual causing into what was now called the Tower of Babel incident had been no slouch and did their best for their curse to be permanent. He also suspected this individual wasn't from this world due to even the Elves not being able to counter it, but he was getting too deep into his musings.

"_Our first order of business today is the demand for secession from the dominions of the Russian Empire._"

But as soon as the Supreme Mugwump finished his sentence, he was interrupted by a diplomat who shot up to his feet.

"_The Russian Empire won't allow some zealous and overly ambitious families to divide our great nation so that they can become some regional dictator with no higher authority to answer too!_"

A flurry of translations followed what the Russian Ambassador said. The delegation from the Kingdom of the Central Steppes looked particularly affronted at the words but was stopped from any answer by the Supreme Mugwump.

"_What do you mean by that, Ambassador Artemov?_"

"_What I mean, Supreme Mugwump, is that those secessionist feelings are only a façade. Those agitators have seen something happen and now they want to do the same thing. Similar circumstances have been seen in China before the Great War and in Austria and Hungary right after the conflict when the _Muggles_ have redrawn the borders of Europe._"

"_Ambassador Artemov is right,_" said an African diplomat whom Lord Grimmen identified as being from the Congo by the little flag and the small sign located where he was seated at with his colleagues. "_Why should the change in Muggle borders have any impact on ours? Do you also think Africa should change its borders to match those drawn by the Muggles without any consideration to the peoples who live in it and their cultures?_"

Most of the diplomats from Africa and the Indies exclaimed their agreements.

"_And what happened to the ideas of one state for one people?_" exclaimed a member of the Crimean delegation.

"_Oh please,_" laughed Ambassador Artemov. "_The only reason Crimea has any sort of distinction between her and the Tsardom of Russia is so the Crown Prince can train to become Tsar. The Crimeans are Russian, and they always have been Russian._"

The discussion went on. The delegations of the Russian dominions tried to plead their cause to the assembly with Poland and some of the South American countries defending them. But then there were the old arguments of the Basque and Galician and Kosovar wanting their sovereign states and it went on and on. The delegations were redundantly repeating the same arguments which were unsound at best. The only ones who had a somewhat good case were the Lithuanians, but their eastern and southern territories were filled with Russians and Belorussians as well as being well-represented at the Imperial Duma.

Lord Grimmen took his wand up and lit its tip to get the right to speak. He always preferred to do things by the protocol. In public, that is.

"_The Chair recognises Germany to speak,_" said the Supreme Mugwump. A small smile showed through his beard, it was always nice when someone else also tried to keep the discussion calm and level-headed.

"_Supreme Mugwump, Diplomats, Ambassadors, and members of this august assembly, we have to ask ourselves what the main goal of this confederation is about. And this goal is to maintain the secret about magic from Muggles all over the world._

"_To help the assembly that we today constitute in this endeavour, we have created national governments all over the world who, I will admit, still somewhat parallel the Muggle ones. But what would the division of the Russian Empire really accomplish? Caucasia is in turmoil and the Muggles fight over it for natural resources as we speak it and the region is dependent from the rest of the empire for food, Lithuania is as much composed of Russians and Belorussians as it is of Lithuanians, and the Baltic Duchy, as well as the Central Steppes, is simply not ready to start a sovereign government dedicated to all aspects of society instead of a few._

"_The children of the dominions would also still need to attend Koldovstoretz as it was prescribed in the International Chart of Schooling for Magical Children of 1869 and need I remind this assembly how difficult it is to arrange mass international travel?_" He looked around and many nodded in agreement. Lord Grimmen looked at the Russian dominions' delegations and spoke a bit more loudly. "_But what this decision would really mean is that the Muggles, the very ones that are destroying our planet as we speak and who kill themselves over liquid fossils and rocks, were able to dominate us to the point that we felt the need to imitate their every move into our world._

"_So, it is your choice, your excellencies. Will we govern ourselves, or have we lost our magical identity?_"

Lord Grimmen seated himself back and some of the diplomats all around the room applauded. The discussion went on to the passing of a vote.

"_Those in favour of refusing the demands of the dominions of the Russian Empire?_" said the Mugwump, an East-Asian witch all dressed in white, seating on the right of the Supreme Mugwump at the High Desk.

Lord Grimmen lit the tip of his wand and was followed by the four other representatives of Germany. Ambassador Artemov and his twelve colleagues were the first ones to do so and were quickly followed by the fifty-eight large Chinese corps led by Ambassador Su and the Scandinavian corps led by Lord Oxenstierna. In the end, a clear majority of the assembly voted for the refusal.

"_Those in favour of initiating the process of independence demanded by the dominions of the Russian Empire?_"

The representatives of Ukraine and Lithuania, who still had seats in the ICW despite being annexed by Russia two centuries ago, lit their wands and were followed by the corps of Poland and Romania. Tibet and Korea also lit their wands, but other than that the other representatives who voted for this were far and few in between.

"_By a vote of 277 to 23,_" announced the Supreme Mugwump, "_the motion to refuse the demands of secession in the present case is passed._"

Lord Grimmen was glad and just a tad relieved. He took out a small, black leather journal with golden embellishments in the corners and wrote a small passage under the already written date: '_The motion to refuse the demands of secession was passed. Today, another step towards the separation between us and the Banausen._'

* * *

"_How was home since I left for Britain?_" asked Anthonie to Catherine. They were walking in the palace's garden a few ways behind their mother who was speaking with their three grandmothers. Aunt Athena had written the family she would stay at the academy during the holidays to research for her thesis, but that she would be able to come back for Ostara. With her letter, gifts had appeared under the enormous Christmas tree in the Library.

"_It felt empty with the two of you gone. Mama is very busy and Célestine is just as busy as I am, so we don't have much time to see each other._"

Contrary to him, his sister found herself making friends with other girls in their country instead of needing to go literally oversea. The two girls had met during a social event three years ago and had gotten along splendidly. Unfortunately, Célestine and her family lived in Verséans, and with only two days without lessons and one of them being taken by church meant they had very little time to see friends.

"_I can only sympathise with you._" Anthonie paused for a short moment to think. "_Would you like to play Journey Through Europe?_"

"_Oui, it has been so long since we played a game._"

The two siblings turned back and went to a boudoir on the first floor, where the games were, and installed the board game on one of the tables. The board showed a map of wizarding Europe and had eighty cities highlighted with different lines linking them representing roads. It was the eleventh Marquis who had brought back a copy of the game in 1769 that he'd seen played at Versailles by other courtesans of Louis « le Bien-Aimé ».

The game had of course been enchanted to enhance and improve the gaming experience. Instead of the original cloth map, the one-inch-thick board felt and looked like a miniature replica of Europe with the snow-covered mountains, the sea and the green forests. The pawns had been shaped to look like miniature-sized – though not to scale with the board – young nobles on their Grand Tour and animated like those in chess.

"_Where should we start?_" asked Anthonie.

"_I would like to start in __Reykjavik__, so it's out of the way._"

They each took one pawn and applied Colour-Changing Charms on them to suit their clothing: purple for Anthonie and blue and pink for Catherine. Catherine played first and rolled a six on the teetotum. Her pawn advanced to the city's port and went to a stall where she took an object and disappeared only to reappear on the Faroe Islands and disappearing again to reappear on the Norwegian coast. She walked from there to Oslo and took a carriage from there to Helsinki by Stockholm and a village in the north of Finland. Anthonie rolled a seven on his turn and his pawn took the same path as Catherine's but continued to St-Petrograd and had to pick a card as indicated on the map.

"_A group of Bolsheviks noticed you and your clothes and alerted the local guard. Take one turn to lose them._"

They played like that for nearly an hour when Johann entered the boudoir, ignoring them and going straight for one of the plushy sofas and promptly falling on one of them.

"_Problem with homework?_" Anthonie asked.

Both Anthonie and Catherine's pawn were in Vienna eating small cakes at a café while listening to some music. As luck would have it, Catherine had picked a card saying she had misunderstood the Turkish wizard she had asked directions for Constantinople and her carriage took her to Jerusalem instead and Anthonie's advance was lost when he rolled one for three consecutive turns while in Greece.

Johann looked from the cushion his face had planted into. "_No problem per se, it's just my Arithmancy calculations are taking forever to do._"

"_So, you don't think you'll continue the class after next year?_" He spun the teetotum and rolled a one. His pawn got up from where it was enjoying itself and took a carriage that crossed a bridge going over the Danube and deposed it to Prague.

"_I'll see for now if I get the grip of the more advanced stuff._"

Johann stayed there on the sofa for a short while before he took a seat at the table with them. He looked at his two younger siblings playing while also talking to them.

"_A bunch of idiots thought they'd be cool by copying Grindelwald's symbol on their books and clothes, but Magnus, Viktor, Lukas, and I taught them better._"

Anthonie gasped at the mention of Grindelwald's emblem, letting go of the teetotum too early. The multi-faceted objected barely spun before it landed and showed a measly two at its top.

"_Who is Lukas?_" asked Catherine, who wasn't as bothered at the mention of the Austrian dark wizard because she hadn't yet learned about the monster that was Gellert Grindelwald.

"_I didn't tell you about him, did I?_" They both shook their heads. "_We met him last year in our Ancient Runes class. He's brilliant in the subject, he learnt how to read, write and speak Norse and Ancient Norse alongside Norwegian and Danish._"

Anthonie half-listened to his brother while he played and thought. Runes. Those were such a useful and powerful part of magic. They were one of the oldest forms of magic used in Europe alongside the Druidic traditions of Northern Europe and Alchemy in Greece and potions and rituals which were already used globally. The other ancient forms of magic which were still used today came from all around the world. Arithmancy was a Middle-Eastern invention, almost the entirety of the human-made Mind Arts were created in China and Divination, Necromancy and the little that constituted Soul Magic was of Eastern Mediterranean and Mesopotamian origins, and that was only the Old World. Not much had been developed in the Elemental Magic field before the first Elven contact in Greece. Staves, and rings for the much more advanced and richer ones, begun to be used by witches and wizards from all around the Mediterranean and from the Roman Empire to China until the Romans invented wands which quickly outgrew staves in popularity.

Of course, Runes had the drawback of needing many hours of preparation and work so they could do anything. but that was what made the beauty of it. Wand magic, although efficient and useful in its easiness and rapidity, generally was weaker than most forms of magic. Potions constituted the largest part of remedies and Alchemy was able to empower or quicken the process but brought its own array of quite problematic... problems. The strongest protective spells were anchored by runestones or rune circles and even the strongest form of wand magic, enchantments, which were largely used in the creation of magical objects, still required long minutes if not hours of work for it to work as intended. Runes even covered wands from one end to the other. He would know, he had spent hours examining his two wands under a magnifying glass when he'd got home after buying them and spent weeks noting the runes in a journal and identifying them and their uses.

Johann stayed with them for half an hour before he went back to finish his homework.

"_Don't you too have homework?_" said Catherine, watching her pawn disappearing from Malta and reappearing in Barcelona.

"_Yes, but my homework was assigned during the week before I left, and I spent nearly an entire day on a train. I had time to finish most of it._

"_Besides, I'm not a fourth-year, yet. My homework is considerably less than Johann's._"

* * *

"_Any other news from Dalmatia?_" wondered the Dowager Marchioness of Beaudelaire.

"_No,_" replied Lady Grimmen. "_They wrote in their last letter they were still searching, but my niece said they will hold funerals for her if she isn't found by November's end._"

The Italian witch took her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

"_There, there. I'm sure they will find her._" She wanted to sound honest and recomforting, but the truth was that the world was an ugly place filled with most horrific people.

They turned the discussion to the other side of the family tree and to more happy news after that.

« _Cousin Mirjami got married to Lord Hämeenlinna's second grandson five days ago,_ » said Lady Beaudelaire, addressing her mother and grandmother who hadn't heard the news. "_They said they would spend four days in Québec so as to have a white Yule before going to New Zealand for two weeks._"

"_How lovely,_" said Lady Marysa. "_I heard New Zealand was quite lovely this time of year… although maybe they should have waited two weeks before leaving so the intercontinental Portkey would have cost them less._"

The Dowager Lady Beaudelaire huffed. "_Oh, I only know too well what you are talking about, my dear. Thirty Galleons per person only for a Portkey from Paris to Alexandria without the additional fee for luggage._"

"_Do the companies think we're made out of gold? At that price, it would almost be better to move the Muggle way from Sicily._"

They were silent for a short while. The Dowager Lady Beaudelaire spoke again with a subtle hint of smugness that her daughter-in-law only caught due to her now being used to it.

"_Speaking of intercontinental travel, my late husband's distant cousin, Donat, told me in his last letter he became the Head of the Department of Magical Transport of Québec and he wrote they were discussing the possibility of making access to the country easier for Louisianan, French, Dutch, Luxembourgian, and Swiss citizens._"

"_Any particular reason why?_" asked Lady Beaudelaire. News like this accompanied with that tone generally meant only one thing.

"_Apparently, the Minister had the idea of a cultural and historical project, some kind of Universal Exposition with a goal to trace back the roots of the Québécois._"

"_And no other reasons?_"

"_Well, I might have sent him a Howler or two about the astronomic cost of transatlantic travel._"

"_But I thought you hated America._"

The Dowager Marchioness looked at her daughter-in-law with an affronted expression. "_There are many places that I hate, but it doesn't mean I like my holiday options to be limited._"

It appeared that even after almost twenty years of knowing her, Alexandrina von Alhbrecht was still surprised by Clémence de Brandebourg.

"_Besides, there is a difference between visiting a place and living in it, and Québec, Louisiana, Guyana and most of the Caribbean are quite nice places in addition of being civilised, unlike MACUSA and Texas._"

The Countess and her daughter-in-law chuckled at the Dowager Marchioness' antics and the four of them continued their walk through the stately gardens of the palace. Even in winter, the gardens were formidable and magnificent to look at. It was also quite nice that there was no snow over them or even on the paved paths.

They talked about their hobbies and past times while walking between the rose bushes when a sudden thought appeared in Lady Marysa's mind.

"_Lady Beaudelaire, I was wondering why you didn't speak much about your own family._"

"_Well, as much as I am ashamed to say it, there is simply not much that happens in Luxembourg. My parents and my uncle, as you know, are dead, my brother is only in the sidelines of politics, at best, unlike how my late husband was and my son currently is, and the only other relatives I have met are my uncle's children, not much compared to the families of my husband or even yours._"

The Dowager's family was indeed quite small compared to those of Lord Grimmen and the late Lord Beaudelaire. Outside of Lady Beaudelaire herself, the family consisted of only five people when counting the Baroness of Honville, eight when one counted the spouses. On the other hand, both Lord Grimmen and the late Lord Beaudelaire had numerous siblings.

Armand de Bousquet had a younger brother and two sisters, his brother and younger sister both having some children and grandchildren of their own while his older sister, who had renounced her claim to the title of Marchioness of Beaudelaire to become a writer and living a well-off life in le Troisième-et-Demi Arrondissement as a writer, had no biological child and never married but adopted a little Muggle-born girl right after she learnt about the magical child's presence in the orphanage funded by their family. Then there was Albert's sister, Rosaline, who had married a wealthy gentleman from Switzerland and who had two children of her own. Friedrich von Alhbrecht, for his part, had two younger brothers and a younger sister who each had multiple children and most of them were married and with children.

"_But as I was saying,_" said the Dowager. "_I have plans to buy some Galearis from Siberia for my gardens…_"

* * *

Grandfather Friedrich barely had the time to exit the fireplace and the flames were still emerald green that Bélanger rang the gong to announce the family they should go up and change for dinner.

"_Opa!_" exclaimed Catherine before Anthonie and her ran to hug their great-grandfather.

He patted their backs. "_Hallo, children. It's good to see you._"

"_How was the ICW?_" asked Anthonie.

"_I'll tell you everything about it during dinner while you tell me how Hogwarts was. Now, we should go change._"

The three of them got up the Entrance Hall's grand staircase and the two children headed towards the aisle reserved for the marquis' close family while he went to the married couples aisle. There he entered his pretend room he only used for changing. Holzman was already there waiting for him and he changed from his dark grey day robes into black velvety dress robes with burgundy embellishments. He took back his walking cane and exited his room and encountered his host at the top of the grand staircase.

"_Ah, Albert, it's good to see you. How are things?_" he said to his grandson-in-law.

"_Bonsoir, Friedrich. Things are going as usual, and I can't complain about that. I hope you didn't have too much trouble coming here._"

"_The Portkey spot was cramped, as always, but I was still able to leave the Headquarters quickly._"

"_I'm glad to hear that. Yuletide should be spent in family, not in political assemblies isolated from the world._"

"_That is because of those damn atheists and progressives who pushed for the ICW's complete religious neutrality twenty years ago. Nothing is considered sacred in the eyes of the young of today, I'm telling you._" He sighed. "_What happened to our world?_"

Albert knew exactly the answer Friedrich was currently thinking of; two global wars, numerous genocides, the spreading of communism in the Muggle world, the end of the European hegemony and many other things. But he kept silent instead of answering the question and did so for the continuation of their descent.

Bélanger opened the door for them and they both took seats near the fire and discussed politics. They were soon joined by Wilhelm and Lord Oldham whom both joined in their discussion.

"_The Geongragamot is voting for a new Muggle Act first thing next year,_" Lord Oldham told them.

"_What do you think are the chances for it to pass?_" asked Wilhelm.

"_I cannot say for certain, as I haven't had the chance to read it over, but the Geongragamot is heavily progressive. Unlike the Wizengamot, which balances more towards tradition._"

"_How is the change of capital going? It has been a while since I read anything about it,_" said Albert.

Wilhelm sighed. "_Slowly, the Nationalversammlung is still the only institution to have moved to Berlin from Frankfurt in the past two years._"

"_People are not overly keen to change cities again, I presume?_"

"_Well, people start to develop habits after nearly fifty years. And believe it or not, but I heard some Ministry employees had gotten to _walk_ to their work._"

"_Really?_" asked Lord Oldham, a hint of shocked disdain in his voice.

"_Yes, we had to make an entrance for them because of their complaints._"

"_What about France?_" asked Friedrich, turning to his host. "_Anything new happening in the Hexagon?_"

"_I wouldn't give our Prime Minister four months before the Chiefconseil ousts him with a vote of no confidence._"

The three others were visibly shocked.

"_After only eight months in office?_" said Lord Oldham, his eyes slightly more open.

Wilhelm nodded. "_What could he possibly have done to cause that?_"

"_He wanted to pass a law on marriage that would tax unmarried people over the age of twenty. I honestly cannot tell why he was elected in the first place._"

"_Oh, that isn't much of a mystery when talking about elections with the common people participating in it. You only need to shout the loudest and you will be voted in, no matter what you say._"

"_You won't hear protests from me,_" said Lord Oldham. "_I'm just glad that _woman _isn't in office anymore. I wouldn't have taken Minister Bagnold's position for all the gold in the world._"

The others came in at seemingly random intervals. His granddaughter arrived, shortly followed by her mother-in-law. His wife and daughter-in-law were next and, finally, his three great-grandchildren were the last to come down. They left the Drawing Room when Bélanger came back from the kitchens to announce them dinner was ready, foregoing the order of precedence as they were dining _en famille_.

The Bousquet family joined by the Alhbrecht family celebrated Christmas in the midst of the Yuletide during what was commonly called in France _le Réveillon_. Meaning, the Christmas feast and exchange of gifts were done on the evening of the twenty-fourth. This was all done to let the servants have Christmas morning and afternoon off and the family would give them gifts for their services, even the house-elves.

This meant the dinner was on another level. They were presented to an overwhelming number of dishes as was the custom among the French aristocracy. Caviar, Oysters, Foie Gras, Escargots, and Coquilles Saint Jacques amongst other things started the meal. Following that was a multitude of poultries one could choose to eat. There was guinea fowl, pheasant, quail, duck, goose, chicken, and the traditional roasted turkey with chestnut stuffing. The whole was accompanied by steamed or roasted vegetables and exquisite sauces.

Anthonie, who was seated at the left of his great-grandfather, decided to forego the sea dishes and took some Escargots, Foie Gras and cheese when they were presented to him accompanied with a small glass of wine. He talked with his great-grandfather about his time at Hogwarts and his classes and how his duelling practices with his friends went.

"_You shouldn't worry yourself too much if you can't defeat your friends when you are put against them all. No one at any given age can possibly be better than four witches or wizards with the same level of skill, and your friends seem to be quite bright and skilled. Particularly that Muggle-born friend of yours. What was her name again?_"

"_Hermione_."

"_You could have fooled me. With a name like hers and the way you wrote about her, I would have thought she was a pure-blood heiress,_" he said after washing down his mouthful with some wine. "_Hogwarts teaches about Muggles, does it not? Unless I'm much mistaken._"

"_Uncle Sylvester said Muggle Studies was an optional class available to third years and up. I also heard some upperclassmen talk about it._"

"_Then, if you ever intend to take this class, you should question her about her world as much as she questions you and your friends about ours. As researchers, it is our duty to seek knowledge from its source. You only have less than two years to learn about the Muggle world and their ways before you take the class. _

"_Which makes me think, we should restart your mathematics lessons come summer. It was all good sending you abroad to learn about the people of the United Kingdom and better your English, but if you want to be any good at Arithmancy, you will have to prepare yourself and it will be a year you haven't had any mathematics lessons come Ostara._"

Anthonie took some pheasant and turkey with accompanying vegetables and a bit of sauce. As they ate the main part of the feast, the discussion turned to what everyone wanted to know about: what happened during the six days the meeting of the ICW took place. He first told them about the latest regarding the Yugoslavian situation and about the ICW denying the secessionist demands from the Russian Empire's Dominions before going on about the usual.

"_China petitioned against Tibet's sovereignty before receiving an umpteenth categorical 'no' from the Mugwumps and the Northern Indies are still at a breeze away from literally going at each other's throats._

"_Bulgaria and Romania officialised their bans on flying carpets, which doesn't help with the Indies, and Bulgaria is being pressured by Yugoslavia, Austria and Hungary to build a school pronto._"

Protections were being set up to protect the southern Slavic school as the front was getting closer and closer. What they feared wasn't for Muggles to accidentally bomb the school, that was all taken for quite easily. No, it was the potential involvement of rogue wizards like in September. No one wanted for an entire generation of two and a half countries to be captured or killed and the castle could be potentially taken as a stronghold for a rogue or insurgent movement. It was even more worrying that _no other_ attacks had happened since September.

Grandfather Friedrich told them next the East African Federation would enter into contact with the Muggle governments for the first time since 1935 and the discussion drifted from subject to subject well into dessert. No less than thirty desserts were put on the table, almost all of which Anthonie liked. What he appreciated about these kinds of feasts was that the wine they drank to accompany the substantial amounts of food was lightly infused with a potion allowing them to eat more than they normally could without causing any problem to their digestive systems or any kind of difficulties on the _other _end.

That was why, unlike at Hogwarts, Anthonie was able to eat some chocolate truffles, meringues, macarons, biscuits, croquembouches, a bit of chocolate soufflé, two small cups of different kinds of ice cream, a piece of Yule Log, a couple of fruits dipped in chocolate and covered in whipped cream, and a spot of pudding to end in beauty without ending up under the table. He had been tempted by the flambé and the crêpes Suzette, but his two glasses of wine could only take him so far.

To an outsider with a Muggle background, this scene would have been overwhelmingly similar to a depiction of the French nobility during the Ancien Régime, but this went over the head of anyone present in the Dining Room of the Palais des Beaussiers.

When dessert was finished, instead of the women and children going to the Drawing Room and the men staying for a while in the Dining Room, they all went to the Library. The servants filled their glasses for the last time this evening before leaving the family to their privacy with what to refill their glasses if they so wished.

The adults exchanged between themselves gifts before the children were given theirs. Johann, in this instance, looked like he would have preferred the loneliness of opening one's gifts in their bedroom on Christmas morning instead of during _le Réveillon_. On the other hand, his two younger siblings were still very happy with this tradition.

Anthonie received many books from his family as well as a runes' graving kit and a new slide rule from his great-grandfather. He also received the obligatory refill of parchment and inkpots and interestingly enough a new jewelled brooch from grandmother Clémence. Anthonie's friends had been quite understanding about his family's Christmas traditions and made sure that their gifts would be there for the _Réveillon_.

In the spirit of getting to know Hermione better and her getting to know them better, the five friends agreed they should all give each other 'acquaintances' gifts for their birthdays and 'friends' gifts for Christmas. This way, Hermione, who had a September birthday, wouldn't have to feel left out for not having known them as long as they did. Speaking of Hermione, the Muggle-born witch had sent him a boxset containing four books all written by the same author named J.R.R. Tolkien. He had sent her a translated edition of _L'Aventure Innatendue d'Adabert Petitpas _and _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _to introduce his friend to wizarding fiction literature.

To Sybil, he had bought an invisibility cloak and himself had received a Colour-Changing ring that allowed to change the colour of many things on his person like his hair, eyebrows, eyes, lips and such. It was cheap in terms of monetary value compared to the invisibility cloak he had gifted her, but he appreciated the gift a great lot. He wouldn't have to powder his nose and hair anymore.

Anthonie was amused to unwrap a set of duelling robes gifted to him from Daphne because he had also sent her a set of duelling robes. The outer robe was made of a fine and thin white-blue fabric with puff sleeves that reached to the middle of his forearm. There were also two inside pockets where his two wands could rest inconspicuously and comfortably before he activated his wand holsters. The inner robe was a beautiful thing partially made out of dragon-hide that fell just short of touching the floor and had a turtleneck. It was engraved by an intricate design and the sleeves reached to his wrist without any frilly ruffs that could hinder the holding of his wand. All in all, it was beautiful and utilitarian, and it went along well with his knee-high dragon-hide boots.

To Tracey, Anthonie had sent her a beautiful and frilly parasol and fan worthy of an heiress to an ancient pure-blood family. Just like how the girl's cousins liked to think as for themselves. Since he had learned about the girl's relatives, Anthonie had started to send Tracey expensive gifts so as to both get his friend's spirits up and indirectly figuratively pulling his tongue out to the girl's bratty cousins. It was in these instances that he appreciated the most having more money than most people. In exchange, Tracey gifted him a book on famous relics and legendary artefacts, which looked to be a very interesting read.

Neville had gifted him various inkpots each of beautiful colours. Anthonie thought this would be great to colour-code notes or his planner when the time came to revise for the winter and spring terms' finals. He himself had sent Neville a book on Mediterranean magical plants.

Anthonie was surprised to find a small package from Paracelsus Black next to Susan Bones' one. The kind girl had sent him Sugar Quills with her Christmas card while he had sent her a small tin box of cookies he had asked the kitchens' elves to bake along with his. Paracelsus had sent him some Ice Mice and Anthonie, although he did not think he would receive something in exchange, had sent a couple of Chocolate Frogs to him.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing or playing card or board games and generally having a good time as a family. The children drank some hot chocolate and they ended the evening with everyone seated near the fireplace with the adults telling stories about their youth.

* * *

***(I have no idea on the basis of this, but apparently it was custom for manservants and Lady's maids to be called by their master/mistress' name by other servants when they were visiting other estates, as seen in Downton Abbey. I used this partly because it allows me to not lose more time than necessary on thinking a German name for really what is essentially an extra for the scene.)**

**A.N.: I hoped you liked this chapter and if you did then please follow it so you can know what will happen next. Please, also leave a review to tell me what you think about the story.**


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